The Impossible Child
by wannabeWriter888
Summary: At fifteen, Maggie Leblanc runs away from her foster home to find her real family in New Orleans. She's quickly drawn into the supernatural part of the city and then finds herself immersed in the latest Mikaelson family feud. In the end will the Original family hold the key to finding her parents or will they bring her only pain? - Future fic, AU after season 2 episode 8; OCs
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not under any circumstances own The Originals, they belong to Julie Plec and the CW. This is all for fun for me.

Reviews are loved.

Chapter One

The city of New Orleans is a loud and busy place at night. In my little sphere of it though, I drown out the noise and focus on my companion. I keep my tone calm and light and prattle on about the first thing that comes to my mind.

"Margaret is an English name that once you boil down all the history, means 'pearl'. The semi-famous Saint Margaret supposedly escaped from a dragon and is the patron of expectant mothers, which is something impossible to live up to, but that's not my real complaint. It was the couple that found me who named me Margaret, though most people call me Maggie anymore," I tell my enraptured audience; "I guess they didn't want to call me baby girl, so they named me after one of their mothers. Or maybe giving me a name was their way of saying someone in the world cares for me. Either way, the name stuck, while the state gave me my last name, but they didn't put as much thought into it. I suppose I should be grateful they didn't name me Margaret Doe; instead they gave me the last name of the family crypt I was found sleeping next to, which isn't much better. That's how I became Margaret Leblanc to the world, but that isn't my name," I pause and adjust to a more comfortable sitting position.

It's nighttime; a waxing moon bathes the world in a gentle light. The stars are out, but between the clouds and the city lights there isn't much to see. I'm used to a clear sky, only trees blocking my view, and bugs keeping me awake. New Orleans is a rude awakening from that rural scene; still this is my favorite time of day, and I'm glad to be here.

I return my attention to my audience and continue my story.

"I've known since I was little that Margaret Leblanc isn't my real name. No kind couple or busy government had the right to name me – that's my parents' job. The kids at school used to tease me, my foster mom went out of her way to discourage me, but I've always known my parents want me. I can't explain how; it's like a memory of a dream or something that slips through my fingers whenever I try to grasp it, but I know my parents want me. They didn't leave me next to a crypt in New Orleans; a bad thing happened to them and they lost me, or something like that, and that's why they haven't been searching for me. The why doesn't matter though, I decided years ago that I would find them instead. The first step was getting to New Orleans and here I am," I look into my companion's doleful brown eyes and grin;

"Bet you think I'm crazy, huh. Only fifteen-years-old and I ran away from a good home because of a memory that might not even be real. Well, that would sound crazy to me too, if my memory was the only strange thing about me, but it's not. See, I see something beautiful that no one else can see. It took me years to figure out what all the connecting lights and different colors meant, but now I know; I see the love that draws people together. It really is a beautiful sight and yet, if I only saw the love and had that memory, it wouldn't have been enough. Well, it would've been enough to convince me, but no one else would've believed me. That's where my final gift comes in, because it's something thing others can see and they can't explain it away – I can heal with my touch. Animal, plant, living, or dead, I can heal it all. Okay, maybe not really _dead_ , dead; but recent, within-a-few-hours dead, I can heal. I've never tried on anything past three hours, so who know about the really dead part."

I pause as I soothingly rub my hand down the brown Labrador's back. I take a closer look at his back leg and then smile a little tiredly as I confirm the ugly, infection-risk gash is gone. My patient treated, I switch to giving him a good belly rub instead.

"Of course, you've experienced for yourself the wonders of my healing touch so you have to believe me now. Sorry about the flames, I know they're scary, but I haven't figured out how to get rid of them yet," I tell my now, less enthused listener; "But now you know I'm not a normal girl. And if I can heal and see the most binding connection between living beings, how can I not believe this memory I've had since I was little? Not that you care anymore about my just beginning journey to find my family. Still thanks for not laughing. Sorry I don't have any food."

I give the stray one final pat down. He looks at me once more with sad, puppy-dog eyes as if he doesn't believe me about the food. When no scraps appear, he gives me one sloppy chin kiss, and then lopes off in search of dinner.

Tuckered out from the healing, I stay seated on the dirty street. I haven't had a good meal in three days and without food the only way to rebuild my strength is with sleep. I don't particularly want to sleep in a smelly alleyway in New Orleans – I may be a small town girl, but even I know that that isn't safe.

Unfortunately, I don't have a lot of options. As I'd told the dog, I'm only fifteen and I've run away from my foster home to make it to New Orleans. I have to be careful about keeping out of the sight of the police and that means not making a scene. I still have some money left over from my summer job, though the bus fares have eaten more of it than I'd expected. What cash I do have left has to go towards food while I search. So even if I knew what kind of motel to go to where they don't ask questions, I can't pay for a room. As such I'm stuck sleeping outdoors my first night in New Orleans.

I tug my jacket in closer around my body. Despite being in the south and close to a sea, New Orleans still gets chilly late at night in the winter months. My jacket will be enough to get me through the night for now. Finding some place to change clothes in the day will be interesting and with only two spare outfits tucked in my black bag, I'm going to start smelling like a homeless kid pretty soon.

In truth, I am a homeless teen at the moment, though I hadn't planned for it to be this way. Sadly, my new, grand plan to find my real parents hasn't really moved past the get-to-New Orleans stage. This wasn't how I'd meant to come to New Orleans in the first place. I'd meant to work during the summers, save up my cash, and when I turned eighteen, then I'd come to New Orleans and hire a private investigator to find my family for me.

A week ago though, I'd woken in the early dawn and knew that if I didn't leave to find my family within the week, I'd never find them. I'd listened to that feeling, which was more than a feeling, and hobbled together a plan to get to New Orleans. I'd gathered up my money, two changes of clothes, and a few mementos; then I'd split in the middle of the night. I'd taken the long way down to New Orleans – it hadn't been a secret that I wanted to come here.

I'd gotten off in Slidell early this afternoon. I'd caught the last ferry over to New Orleans late this evening. I had been wandering around, having just decided to begin my search by finding the cemetery where I'd been found as a baby, when I'd heard the dog. The poor stray was going to die with a wound like that and I couldn't let that happen – I have a strong affinity for dogs. It had taken the last of my dinner to coax the dog into letting me near him. He'd nipped me when I'd moved him into the more secluded alley and I'd had to heal myself first before I started on him.

Now here I am; alone, tired, and hungry in a big city with no idea where to hide out for the night and not real plan for finding my parents. Things are not looking good for me, but as soon as I have the energy I'll find some place nicer to sleep and then find my way from there.

I may not know my real name or family, but I know myself and I am an eternal optimist.

"Hey buddy," the stray has returned to me whining; "What's wrong?"

His ears are tilted back and he slinks towards me low on the ground. I've volunteered enough at an animal shelter to know a threatened stance, but there is no reason for him to feel threatened by me. I push myself up and pick up my bag, the dog barks at me and dashes back the way he'd come. When I don't follow, he comes back and barks at me, then whines beseechingly.

"You want me to follow you?" I ask; the dog wags his tail while my feet are already busy obeying the command.

Follow him I do. Outside our little alley the city is still a bustling place, even late at night and a ways from the French Quarter. I pass several small parties and a few loners, but none of them seem to take notice of the dog or give me a second glance. The stray leads me up two blocks, takes a left, and after another block we reach our destination.

On the corner of an intersection, I look to my left and see a mostly deserted street. There are four people in the empty road, two men and two women, and they are prancing around a huddled figure near a vandalized car. It is easy enough to see the dog has brought me here for this reason – though I don't understand how he can be so smart.

Four against one isn't fair. Besides I can see something different about these bullies with my second sight. It's as if they've cut off their ability to care about others – it's an ugly look. They have to be stopped and I will do it alone if I have to.

"Leave him alone!" I shout, dropping my bag and marching towards the group.

What can I say? I have a bit of a temper, especially when it comes to bullies; been there, done that. I might also lack a self-preservation instinct, a friend told me so once. At least I have a plan this time.

"Runaway girlie, can't you see we're busy?" the skinniest of the four shouts at me as I draw closer.

He is a dark-haired man somewhere in his twenties. If I'd met him in any other situation, I may have called him hot. As it is, between his comment and his buddies' laughter, I hate him.

"Don't send her away yet Darin, I could use a snack when this is over and she looks mighty tasty," the second man in the group croons.

I don't fully understand that comment, I have an idea about the innuendo, but it's his tone that confirms I won't like the meaning regardless. By now I'm close enough to see the crumpled figure on the ground is a teen, no older than me. My temper bursts.

When the hungry bully with large biceps suddenly appears at my side, I don't think, I act. I punch him in the jaw, it hurts, and an instant later my hand burst into flames. The flames aren't deadly, in fact this is my healing fire, but the bullies don't know that – I could call real fire into being, I just choose not to.

The bullies take one look at the flames crawling harmlessly up my arms, curse what sounds like "witch!" and scatter. They all disappear in the blink of an eye, just as quickly as the one jerk had appeared at my side. As I am the one with flames around her hand, I know strange things are possible. Until this moment though, I'd never seen anyone else who is unique. Considering the others were a bunch of monsters, I didn't really care to hear their story anyway.

The groan of the injured boy brings me back to my next problem. From behind me the brown dog barks encouragingly.

"Relax, I'm not going to hurt you," I coax in the same voice I'd used on the stray earlier; "The flames won't burn you; they'll help you feel better."

Out of his one, not swollen eye, the younger boy looks me over. When the dog with very matted fur trots over to vouch for me, the boy gives me a tiny nod of approval. I place one burning hand on his injured back and the other on his head.

It is dangerous to do a healing on a street where anybody can see, a part of me whispers. But I can't move him, he can't walk, and I'm not going to leave him here hurt. I'm unable to do anything about the possible witnesses, but I have a trick up my sleeve to make the boy forget once I'm done.

As my power spreads through him, I feel each and every injury. He had three cracked ribs, a bruised spleen, a broken ankle, and a fractured clavicle along with a concussion and numerous lacerations and bruises. With each new injury I catalogue, my power heals him and the wounds are transferred to me instead. It's different when I heal animals and plants, the power travels through me and into them, but the reverse happens with humans.

I wince and moan, because I can still feel pain as sharp as a normal person, and then it is done. The boy sits up, healthy and whole, while I look like he did only minutes before. My flames recede from his body and disappear inside me.

Now the harmless, pretty flames outside my body turn molten hot deep in my bones. It doesn't hurt me, it feels wonderful. My pain goes away first and then my body heals itself. To conserve energy and let everything heal properly, I don't move. I sit with my eyes closed, breathing in a meditative trance as I become whole again.

Nearly an hour later, my healing finishes. I stretch, relaxing tense muscles and popping air joints, then open my eyes. I am surprised to find the younger teen sitting in front of me, scratching the stray between the ears. I didn't expect him to stay, the healing had been more extensive than I'd thought it would be, and I'd figured he would run while I was distracted.

"That's some interesting magic you've got there," the boy comments as I stare at him in confusion; "You new to Davina's coven or you one of them visiting witches of hers?"

"Excuse me?"

I'd once entertained the possibility that I was a witch. I'd looked up some spells online, tried them out, and when they'd failed realized I wasn't a witch after all. But to someone who didn't know better, it would look a lot like magic. The fact the boy is treating my healing like a normal occurrence and not running to hills, screaming about evil and devil-worship is what really surprises me.

"I'm Aaron by the way," the boy rattles on, oblivious to my confusion; "Don't know my last name, so it's just Aaron you hear, but thanks anyway for saving me from the vamps and healing me like that. It was pretty cool, never seen a healing like that before."

"What are you talking about?" is all I can get out.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I wish I did, but I don't own The Originals - Julie Plec and The CW do. Sigh.

Chapter Two

"What do you mean?" Aaron asks.

I squint in the weak combination of moonlight and street light. Aaron has dark brown hair and light eyes. He is scrawny for his age; I put him at about thirteen or fourteen and his oversized clothes only make him look younger. He is wearing a lot of black; jacket, t-shirt, and sneakers, but he doesn't look Goth or emo.

Of course I am a little biased when it comes to clothes – I always like to dress my best. That is why even on the run I am wearing my new jean jacket with matching jeans, a purple blouse without a stain on it, and comfortable, but not over worn black boots. My chocolate hair is pulled back into a bun, not a wisp out of place, and if I'd bothered with make-up, as I do when I'm not on the lam, that would've been done properly as well.

Impressions are important, first impression especially so. Now my first impression of Aaron is that he is different, maybe different like me, maybe not. He has an interesting sense of style or he inherits a lot of hand-me-downs, but he wears his clothes without a second thought. I like him, I decide – he's taken my healing ability in stride and with a cocky little grin has turned the tables on me.

"You're talking of witches and vampires, of myths as if they're real," I point out to him.

I'm not trying to call him crazy; with what I can do I am open to the possibility. I just need him to explain it all.

"Of course they're real," Aaron replies, a little wary, as if I am pulling his tail; "How could you heal me without knowing you're a witch?"

"I grew up in a foster home," I start to explain and Aaron nods his head in understanding.

"So you're basically a baby witch to all this," he says and I try and not take offense to such a comparison, even if it is accurate; "No wonder your healing magic is different, you learned how to do that all on your own. But why are you here in New Orleans? Did you come to see if the witches here are real?"

"I came to find my family, I was born here, but I'm not really sure where to start. Are you a witch? Do you think you could take me to the adults who can help me find my parents?"

Aaron chortles at my questions. For a fleeting moment I wonder if he's been playing me after all. But no, I've just healed him; he couldn't joke about witches and vampires after that. Besides those vampires, if that's what those monsters were, had runaway supernaturally fast.

"I'm a werewolf, not a witch. Or at least one day I will be a werewolf, once I activate," Aaron answers, his tone is serious and a dark look passes over his face.

I wonder what the look is about, but it seems too personal. I choose to not ask. I've come to New Orleans to find my family, now I've discovered the supernatural world does exist and Aaron is my ticket into it. Hopefully there will be supernatural people who can help me find the answers I seek faster than I'd originally planned.

"Do you know any witches that might be able to help me? You mentioned a name earlier, Divina or something."

"You mean Davina, and I don't actually know her, just of her. My pack generally tries to keep away from the other factions here in the Quarter. We stay out of their hair; they stay out of ours, that sort of thing you know. However my alpha might know a guy who can help you, but you'll have to talk to him."

"Great, lead the way," I say, struggling to my feet.

The world spins for a little bit and I nearly fall, but don't. When the spinning stops, I find I'm still standing upright, but Aaron and the stray are watching me with concerned expressions.

"A pit stop to get some food may be in order," I tell them with a grin; "Then I'll feel right as rain."

"Okay," Aaron shrugs off his worry; "But first, what's your name?"

"Maggie," I reply with a grimace.

Margaret Leblanc is not my real name, but until I find my parents it is all I have that people can call me.

TO-TO-TO-TO

"Brutus, don't eat that!" Aaron cries and darts after the mangy dog that is chowing down on a candy wrapper.

I grin as I watch the tug-of-war that follows on a tree-lined road leading out of the Seventh Ward. Aaron wins in the end, getting the wrapper away from Brutus and into a garbage bin before the dog can swallow it. He tousles Brutus's ears and then gives the dog a gentle swat on the backside.

"Keep walking Billy goat, but know I've got my eye on you," Aaron growls, but fails to sound menacing.

Brutus gives an unimpressed snort and trots ahead, sniffing for a new treat. I snicker as I match Aaron's sedate pace down the broken sidewalk.

"I didn't realize he was yours," I mention, continuing on our easy-going conversation.

So far on our walk, Aaron has peppered me with tidbits about the New Orleans's history like a tour guide; we've discussed football and we've debated beignets versus doughnuts. We have not broached the subject of anything supernatural and even though I am brimming with questions, I let Aaron lead the discussions.

"He's not really," Aaron shrugs, which I've begun to suspect means the topic isn't as casual as he pretends it is; "He followed me home one day and I haven't been able to get rid of him since."

"Have you ever tried washing him?"

"Tried, failed, tried again and succeeded only for him to go and roll in mud a minute later. Brutus likes to be dirty and I prefer to not be slobbered on, so we agreed to respect those boundaries and we've gotten along great since then."

"You have an agreement with a dog," I laugh.

"Didn't have much of a choice," Aaron grouses, but he grins as well; "Dogs that hang around weres a lot pick up a few tricks, or so my alpha claims."

"I find I can believe that," I reply, remembering how Brutus has led me to Aaron in the first place.

"Ah, do you hear that?" Aaron asks as music floats to our ears.

"Is that jazz?"

We were getting closer to the French Quarter I knew. Aaron had said our destination was along the edge of the Quarter. I could already see the lights, some from the building, but most emanated from the people.

"That's not just jazz baby witch, that's heart and soul being melded together into the greatest art piece you will ever experience," Aaron croons to the notes.

I shake my head and grin back at him as he mimes playing a saxophone. I'd discovered quickly on our walk that Aaron likes to make people laugh. When we'd passed a cemetery and I'd debated searching to find out if it was the one I was found in, Aaron had distracted me with a story of a prank that local kids play on the tourists sometimes. At one of the old, historic homes that we walked around, he pretended to be a "high fluting" ancestor of the place for a block. He'd even taken us on a detour so that I could taste the best homemade beignets in New Orleans – and then he swore me to silence as they're apparently a well-kept secret.

Each time I laugh or grin because of him, he glows in my second sight. I've seen bonds similar in politicians and team captains, but never as strong as his before. It's a soft, encompassing green light that tells me Aaron has an empathetic personality. I have a strong feeling that one day he'll make a great leader because of it.

"This is a beautiful city," I tell him as we walk the line between the Quarter and the suburbs.

"Yeah, it is and I wouldn't want to live anywhere else, no other place had character quite like New Orleans," Aaron beats with pride.

A moment later, Brutus lets out a happy bark and charges ahead. Aaron smiles at me and grabs my hand as he picks up the pace. My feet are sore, I'm still hungry, and I need a nap, but I pick up my speed and follow some more.

"And here we are, home sweet home, sort of," Aaron announces with a grand flourish of his free hand.

A faded blue bullet house sits before me – at least that's what Aaron has told me is the name for the houses of this particular build. The short four-step porch is in need of repair and weeds are crawling everywhere in the yard. Still it's a nice looking house; it just needs a little TLC.

"Sort of?" I repeat as we near the steps, Brutus is already inside.

"It's more of a meeting house than a home, though I think some of the older wolves live here from time to time."

"Where?" I start to ask about the pack's real home when Aaron bounds ahead of me and up the steps.

"Lucy I'm home!" he cries and jumps indoors.

I step inside and see a blonde-haired Greek statue lounging on a chair. He has dark eyes, shaggy hair, and a small scar under his right eye. He's wearing a sleeveless red tee with jeans and despite the indulgent grin it is bright as day to me that he's the alpha and on the defense.

The turquoise bonds of loyalty are strong and filled with affection between him and the other wolves in the room. I can see similar bonds between Aaron and the other three weres in the house, but they aren't as bright. This glow is a stronger form of the one Aaron has; I deduce that this could be a visual marker of werewolves for me because usually team and friend bonds are emerald in my second sight.

Of the other three wolves, there is only one girl. She has dark-skin, cornrows, and black tee on; she frowns at me when I enter. A dark-skinned youth about Aaron's age with a nose like the girl's shoots me a nervous look from his corner seat. The final wolf is a wiry, brown-haired teen with braces and a hunting knife.

"Aaron, who's the girl?" the alpha asks.

"This is Maggie, she's a witch from out of town," Aaron reports, subdued from his earlier, chipper self, and respectful; "She's here looking for some family, I told her you could help her contact Davina's crowd."

"Why should we help a witch?" the girl snarls; "Her kind never bring us anything but trouble."

"Khloe," the alpha silences her with a look.

"Maggie helped me Leo," Aaron adds; "Four Rippers caught me and Brutus over near the docks. Maggie scared 'em away and healed us without asking for anything in return."

Leo turns his dark eyes on me and I return his stare as passively as I can. I feel the werewolves reevaluating me, but am not sure what conclusions they come to.

"Do you have anything you'd like to add?" Leo asks me.

"I only just found out I'm a witch today," I decide to go for total honesty as I've never been that good at lying; "I've spent my whole life in foster care and have come to New Orleans to get some answers. I've learned a lot in the last few hours, but there's still a lot more that I don't know. I'm not a part of whatever problems you have with the witches or the vampires here. I'm here to find my parents. If you don't want to help, that's find, just point me in the general direction I should go and I'll be out of your hair."

"You don't look eighteen," the wiry werewolf points out.

"I never said I was," is my retort.

"You say you only just learned you're a witch and yet today you healed both Aaron and his dog," Leo stands up, imposingly tall.

"I've had my powers for years. I learned to control them on my own without knowing what I was."

I still don't understand why my spells hadn't worked, but that was a question for other witches.

"She's really powerful," Aaron pips up as if that will help my case.

"Do you think she could get up Luna?" Leo asks Aaron.

Aaron looks at me thoughtfully. I look at all of them questioningly. Meanwhile Brutus returns from wherever he's been hiding, looking for a good rub.

"I think she could," Aaron replies at last; "But hasn't she done enough?"

"She has and while I'm grateful for how she helped you, I can't let this opportunity pass," Leo puts a hand on Aaron's shoulder; "One day when you're an alpha of your own pack, you'll understand," then he turns to me; "I will help you get in contact with the witches of the Quarter, but there is something I'd like you to do in return."

"I'm not sure what I can do to help you, and I won't kill anybody for you, but for anything else, I'll try my best."

I don't ask for anything when I heal people, I heal them because I don't want them to suffer. But I understand making deals, life is a two-way street.

"Witches took something special from my pack several generations ago. They hid it and locked it away behind spells my people cannot break. I'd like for you to try and get it back for us, and so long as you try, I will help you make contact with the witches."

"So you want me to use my magic," which I barely understand went without saying; "If that's the case, I need a good meal and some sleep beforehand because all the healing I've done has drained me. Then I want to hear all the details about this thing the witches took, what makes it so special, and why they took it. Keep in mind; I'll know if you're lying."

If I'm going to do this, I will do it on my terms. If Leo isn't willing to deal with that, then I'll find my own way and his special object can remain lost. There is so much about this supernatural world I don't know about, I'm not going to put myself in danger without a clear idea of what I'm getting into again. Aaron was one thing, this object is different. I maintain eye contact with Leo to show him I'm not bluffing. Lying, so long as a person isn't a psychopath, involves a little bit of self-hate. Even when people are used to lying all the time, it affects their self-images of themselves and since self-esteem involves loving who you are, I can see it when people lie to others and themselves.

"And if I meet these terms?" Leo asks while Khloe growls something under her breath.

"Then I'll give you my best shot," I reply and hold out my hand.

"It's a deal," Leo agrees and we shake on it.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own the Originals, but would possibly sell my soul to own them and all the ice cream in the world. Julie Plec and The CW have the rights until then.

Chapter Three

The werewolves let me sleep in a room towards the back of their bullet house. The twin bed is made, the sheets are fresh, and the mattress is heaven to my exhausted body. I sleep solidly for about five hours; then Khloe shakes me awake before she tugs Aaron out of bed.

Khloe, I realize, does not like me or trust me. José, on the other hand, finds me entertaining, like a fish in an aquarium; the feeling is mutual. Aaron I know likes me, Leo is hard to get a read on, and no one's bothered to tell me Khloe's little brother's name yet, much less let me talk to him.

José, the wiry were in his mid-twenties like Leo, cooks me a Cajun chicken omelet in the pre-dawn hours. It makes my eyes water and scorches my tongue, but it is really tasty and has me asking for seconds. José is pleased, apparently he is the pack's favorite cook, but few outsiders enjoy his detail to flavor.

While I eat, Aaron and José give me a quick primer on the supernatural world. Khloe occasionally adds in a tidbit when she feels like it – her brother, whose name is Dudley it turns out, is out on an errand with Leo.

From the wolves I learn that vampires, werewolves, and witches all exist; while ghosts of the supernatural used to exist, but no longer do – apparently a long story. Vampires are immortal, undead people who hunger for blood; they have super strength, healing, and speed with super reflexes and senses too, and are the werewolves' greatest enemy. They're also allergic to sunlight, but daylight rings protect them. Khloe mentions something called vervain, which protects humans from vamps for the most part and Aaron adds that the undead really can't enter homes without an invitation.

Werewolves are shape shifters who once triggered, by killing a human, turn into wolves every full moon. They have all the super abilities of vampires when turned or close to a full moon that in some cases are even better than vamps, but without a moonlight ring they are like humans the rest of the time. Their bite is lethal to vampires, but they're mortal and weakened by wolfsbane, and more easily killed than vampires. Beyond that Khloe won't let the others share anymore more with me because I'm still a wild card.

So Aaron and José tell me a little about witches, who are humans that can cast spells, make potions, and enchant objects. There are many types of magic in the world; traditional, ancestral, dark, and something called traveler magic. As Leo's pack prefers to keep away from witches, they don't know a lot about their magic and how it works. They do know that most of the witches in New Orleans practice ancestral magic.

"Here in New Orleans it was just witches and werewolves livin' side-by-side for a good long time," José tells me as I finish up my seconds; "Then 'bout three hundred years ago the Original family moved in and brought the blood-suckers to town. There were territorial disputes, deaths, and a lot of distrust for several centuries. Then for a short time there was unity between all the species about a hundred years ago, until 1919."

The Original family, I've been told, is the first ever group of vampires in the world. All vampires can apparently trace their lineage back to the family and supposedly one of the brothers is also the first hybrid; part vampire, part wolf.

"After the fire the Originals skipped town and the vampire, Marcel, took over with his own vampire army. The blood-suckers came after the packs first, forced us out of the Quarter and into the bayou. They killed off entire bloodlines, had witches curse other packs, and let in-fighting finish their work for them. When the packs were no longer a threat, the vamps turned their attention to the witches. I heard they interrupted an important ceremony of the witches, nearly cost them all their magic and destroyed the whole city in the process about fifteen years ago. Of course, that was around the same time the Original family came back into town and a lot of crazy stuff happened in the following years."

I perk up in interest. This is the recent past, far more relevant to the city I'm currently in today. More importantly, it is in the time period when I was born and might explain why my parents thought I was dead, or something along those lines.

"Supposedly the hybrid brother had a kid that apparently died because of the Guerrera pack. He and his family wiped the entire pack out in retaliation, but the battle lines changed again. Witches learned how to make moonlight rings so that werewolves had their strength and venom all the time and the two groups aligned to take out the vampires," José points to the black-stone rings he and Khloe wear that I'd seen on Leo the night before;

"A war followed. Alliances were made and broken and made again. In the end it wasn't one faction besting the other and taking control of the city – the Originals played us all and took the victory. They forced a treaty on all the supernatural inhabitants of New Orleans and they've kept the peace between all the factions for the last decade."

"But ten years of tension doesn't heal away centuries of fighting," Khloe adds, whittling away at a wooden cube, crafting something; "It also doesn't build up trust."

"If things are that unstable, why are you guys even considering taking me to the witches? How can you even trust me?" I ask, trying to process this information overload.

"Because trust has to start somewhere," Leo says from behind me, making me jump in my chair; "And there are a few groups within the factions that have proven themselves to me in the past. Marcel may have been the one who tried to wipe out the packs the first time around, but he has a rule about children, and so do the Originals. During the war ten years ago, they saved my life and the lives of many of my pack," Leo nods to Khloe and José;

"They made sure we were out of the crosshairs when the real fighting went down and Klaus, the hybrid Original, helped me to form this pack. They've kept their distance for the most part, but they look out for us still. In return we respect their rules, for the most part. Through Marcel we have access to the witch Davina and her coven and most of them are pretty likable for witches. I trust them with the lives of my pack and I trust them to do right by you in finding your family."

Leo gestures for me to follow him. I stand up, running my hand through my hair like a brush when I realize we're heading outside. Aaron follows after us, but Khloe and José stay to clean up.

"As for trusting you?" Leo continues as we walk through the house; "You saved Aaron without asking for anything in return and you're an open book when it comes to your emotions; you'd make a terrible liar."

I grumble somewhat under my breath at that. I can totally lie if I need to, I just don't like to and I am so not an open book. When I catch sight of Aaron grinning ear-to-ear in a mirror, I want to smack myself – I'd forgotten about the super hearing.

Outside, Dudley is waiting for us in a two-door, white pickup truck. Aaron and I squeeze into the back while Leo takes the passenger seat. Then I buckle up for my life and endure an hour long ride through the city as Leo multitasks – giving me the details I'd asked for as we head for our destination while teaching Dudley how to drive.

"We werewolves don't have a lot of magic on our own, but there are some totems that hold great power and meaning to us. Luna is an important figure to my people. Generations ago my family was entrusted with a statue of Luna – Take a left here Dudley; signal!"

I scramble for a finger hold as the truck swerves across two lanes to make the turn in time. Angry horns blare behind us. Aaron bumps into me, whooping – boys.

"Back when Marcel forced the packs into the bayou, my family lost Luna in the chaos. My father managed to track down the whereabouts of the stature before he was killed in the war. A group of witches had gotten their hands of Luna and tried to access her power. When they failed, they decided if they couldn't have her, then the werewolves shouldn't either. They hid Luna in a condemned sanatorium and placed powerful curses around her to keep everyone out – Red lights mean stop Dudley!"

Tires squeal as Dudley breaks. Aaron and I are thrown forward into the backs of the front seats. I earn a bruise that that my body immediately begins to heal; Aaron gets a mouthful of the headrest and doesn't whoop so much afterwards.

"Many werewolves and even vampires have gone into the sanatorium to get Luna back, none have ever returned. Davina looked at the spells once, said her coven could break through the spells given time, but she doesn't trust that kind of power in the wolves' hands. Here we are; break slowly Dudley."

We pile out of the truck and walk to the base of the steps leading to the creepy, abandoned sanatorium. Leo turns me around by my shoulders to look me in the eye.

"The others told you how the werewolf curse works – to activate we have to kill a human. Majority of my pack is made up of kids; they've never killed before, they don't want to kill, and I don't want them to have to. Luna won't work for us the same way she would for others because of that, but she can protect us. With Luna I can protect my pack; I can help them live normal lives, to be kids, without feat of other wolves, vamps, or witches."

Leo shines out of love for his pack as he speaks – a brilliant peridot-teal hue. His words ring true. More than that, I can see he's decided he likes me, that he does trust me, and that he is willing to be friends.

"I'll help, but I'm not sure what chance I have if an entire coven is needed to break these spells."

"Based on what Aaron saw of your powers, you're more powerful than any witch in the Quarter, even Davina," Leo encourages me, falling easily into the role of a good leader; "Still, I don't expect you to bring Luna back today without any real training. Find her, get a good look at the spells guarding her, and promise me that the first chance you get you'll break her free."

"That I can do," I tell him and hold out my pinky finger, because the serious moment needs something to break it up.

Leo looks at my finger in confusion, then at me, and I grin cheekily back. Aaron shoves his fist into his mouth, trying to muffle his laughter, giving me a thumbs-up from behind Leo's back. Dudley snorts and then pretends to cough. A touch of a grin comes to his face and Leo accepts my pinky promise.

"Wish me luck," I call as I march up the steps towards the sanatorium.

Aaron wishes me something else entirely, but I am too far away to hear him clearly. All I hear is something about a necklace and a full moon.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own the Originals, but Julie Plec and The CW do - great for them, boohoo for me.

Chapter Four

The doors to the sanatorium are unlocked; the dull silver ends of a broken chain tell me they haven't always been this way. It makes getting in easy, though the doors creak ominously as I let myself in. I find the entrance hall is covered in dirt, littered with trash, repainted with graffiti, and falling apart – a preview for the rest of the building.

There are three floors to the sanatorium. I'd counted forty windows on the front of the building and Leo had warned me, there are two other wings. That is a lot of rooms to check and only one of them holds Luna.

I walk into the first room on my left. It feels like I am walking through a spider web, though I can't see one. I call in a little real fire to my palm, not healing flames, and swipe around my face. I feel a pluck of power flow out of me, nothing draining, and then the web disappears. Smirking, I extinguish my fire and enter the room.

"If I were a witch hiding a mystical, magical statue, where would I put it?" I ask aloud and listen to my voice echo.

"I'd try the crematorium, west wing on the first floor," a girl's voice replies; "Always the favored pick for a witch with a black sense of humor. But I think the better question is why are you here, looking for Luna in the first place?"

The owner of the voice steps around the wall dividing us and we both freeze in surprise. It's like looking into a mirror, expect the hair and the eyes aren't right. Where my hair is chocolate brown, hers is more of a dark blonde, and she has vibrant blue eyes while mine are a dark brown. Still the resemblance is eerie.

"Are you real?" I ask.

Leo had said Luna is guarded with strong spells. The appearance of a girl who is almost my identical twin certainly seems like a mind-messing spell to me.

"Ow!" I cry when the girl pinches me in response.

"Now that we've established we're both real, how about you answer my question?" the girl retorts.

Up this close it is easier to see there are more defining differences between us. I'm a couple inches shorter and have a beauty spot under my left eye. She is moderately muscular and gloriously sun-kissed tan while I've never had the opportunity to tone my muscles and am milky pale because my skin is resistant to sunlight no matter how long I sit out.

"I have my reasons," I answer vaguely.

If this other girl knows about Luna, then she probably belongs to another faction that wants the statue. She doesn't look like she could best the powerful, old witches' curses any more than I feel I can, but I still don't want her butting in. Especially since she has a dim chord of werewolf loyalty wrapped about her.

"Fine, that's cool, keep your secrets," the girl rolls her eyes; "I'm not here for the statue, I'm looking for a dark object. My uncle Kol hid it somewhere around here as a test of my powers," a purple chord of affection lights up around the girl as she thinks of her uncle; "Bet he dumped it here so that I'd get a look at Luna and be tempted to try and break the spells, but I'm not stupid. Those curses are nasty and I know I'm nowhere near powerful enough to take them on alone, which is probably the lesson he wanted me to learn all along."

Another eye roll accompanies another ping of love for her uncle. I try not to get distracted by the menagerie of colors that surround this girl. Whoever she is, she obviously has a large, loving family that she loves deeply in return and some of the lights swirling around her seem familiar. But I have to keep to the task at hand.

"So you're a witch?" I ask her.

"Uh, yeah. Thought you knew that with the way you took out my defensive spell," the girl points to the wall behind me.

Her finger directs my gaze to a set of burned out runes around the doorway to the room we're in. I peer closer after a spark jumps off one symbol and notice the edges of the runes are still glowing from heat. Only then do I realize the spider web that had sucked a little drop of power from me hadn't been a web after all.

"Oh, sorry about that," I reply sheepishly; "I'm still new to the whole magic thing."

Probably not the best thing to admit to a total stranger. But she's a witch, she might be able to help me. Only getting her help will probably require telling her why I'm after Luna and that will be a betrayal of Leo's trust. I'm not the type of person to break another's trust in me intentionally. Besides I've made Leo a promise and only death will make me break those. So asking her for help is definitely not an option for now.

"That spell is the most powerful defense spell I know and you just broke through it accidently?!" the girl shrieks at me, gaping.

"Sorry?" I repeat, debating whether now would be a good time to run.

"You've got to be the most powerful witch alive!" the girl declares, twisting a lock of hair around her finger as she evaluates me.

"I don't know about that," I decide to start inching away.

"Let me borrow some of your power," the girl closes the distance between us and grabs my hands.

"What? Why?" I snatch my hands out of hers.

"The spells around Luna prevent me from sensing the dark object," the girl explains; "With some of your power I'll be able to find it in a snap and won't have to search every nook and crevice. Plus it will get me out of your hair faster."

The girl looks determined and I'm pretty sure she won't leave me alone unless I let her have her way. I've met enough stubborn people to know the look. As I don't want an audience and I don't want her to follow me around, pestering me with questions I can't answer, there is only one course of action I can take.

"Fine," I agree, not entirely sure what I'm getting into.

My blonde-haired, almost-twin smiles and crosses my forearms in front of me. She then crosses her own arms and grabs my wrists. She says the spell clearly so that I can understand her and memorize it; then she repeats the spell again with her eyes closed.

I feel the pull immediately. It is like what I imagine it would feel like if we were pulling hard taffy between us. That doesn't seem right to me. Then I realize I am being resistant to the spell, because I'm wary of this girl. I didn't know if I could trust Aaron when I healed him, but I did it anyway out of compassion.

I don't know if I can trust this girl, though I have a feeling she means me no harm. I don't have to trust her though to help her. If I heal blindly out of compassion, then I can share power out of kindness. With that thought settled, I feel the change instantly.

Warm, white smoke tendrils swirl out of me and into the girl. As she absorbs my power I find I can sense exactly what she' doing. The spell she's cast is like a bat's cry, sending out psychic sound-waves throughout the sanatorium, and when the waves rebound to her they bring back information.

The walls and floors are made of wood and stone; they feel like the plants and rocks they'd come from long ago. The grass creeping in feels like warm beads of light while the mice in the wall are little electrical shocks to my system. Even the girl and I can be felt in the spell; she is a hurricane of water and I am a storm of light and fire. In all these textures, magic is easy to find as it snuffs out the sensory detail. There are two points of emptiness in the sanatorium that signal something magical. One is small and in a corner room on the second level, the other is the size of a door in the west wing.

"Sweet," the girl draws out the word, puffing out smoke.

"Are you okay?" I ask, unlocking my arms when she starts coughing heavily.

"I'm fine," the blonde replies between coughs, takes a deep breath and recovers; "You're like a twenty-shot expresso. I don't think I'm going to be able to sleep at all tonight!"

"Thanks, I think."

"Do you even feel drained?" she asks.

I shrug. I feel as if I've just run up and down a flight of stairs, once maybe twice. A little tiring but nothing strenuous as I'm in shape. I don't particularly feel like admitting that; it is a little scary to know I have that much power.

"Suit yourself," the girl rolls her eyes again and punches me in the shoulder; "Thanks to you I found the dark object and will get home early. That means Uncle Elijah lost the bet and I get to take a peek at a more advanced spell. Thanks a million fire witch! Oh and tell Leo that Marcel is hanging around Cami's tonight. I'll see you later!"

With a wave and a saucy, devilish grin the girl disappears into another room. I try to follow after her, to ask her how she knew about Leo, but she is gone when I reach the doorway.

I growl some choice words about flighty, know-it-all witches and swear that I hear her laugh. Then I catch myself rolling my eyes just like her and shake my head. I turn around and head for the west wing.

Things become creepier as I near the statue of Luna. The first room I enter in the west wing has air that feels extremely chilly. I tug my jacket in tighter and let my healing power flow through me until the chill is gone.

In the next room I find an axe imbedded in the wall. There is so much hatred infused into that blade it glows a toxic black in my vision like a person would. The sight makes me feel sick to my stomach, so I hurry on to the next room.

A couple rooms down I become tangled up in a rough, brown thread. It cuts into my ankles and my hand when I try to free myself. I have to burn the thread away and then heal myself. I feel rather tired after that, but figure it's caused by the excessive healing over the last two days.

The room after that holds grinning skeletons. One peek at those hanging jaws and I look straight ahead. Dead or not, those faces have menacing looks and I have no desire to test my reviving ability on them.

It isn't until I hit the invisible wall a few doors down that I realize what is happening. It is the spider web all over again. I'm burning through the curses locking Luna away and I only feel a moderate drain to my energy.

I almost head back right then and there. With my healing, I know I have limits, lines I cannot cross without my body failing first. With healing, I know I'm helping others and I know I'm doing something good. With magic, I figure I have a limit, but it clearly is so much higher than any other witches if this Davina and her coven would have to work together to break these curses and I'm doing it all alone. With magic, I have no limits of who I can help and no certainties that my actions will benefit others. It terrifies me and I can't help but wonder what my family will think of me.

Then I remember, it is my choice. I chose to come after Luna to help Leo, for the protection of his pack. I made a promise I want to keep. Maybe Leo doesn't expect me to make it through the first time, but I can, and this will help keep Aaron and the other kids safe. I might not have a say in how much power I have, but I do have a say in how I use it. I just have to remember that. As for my parents, I can only hope they'll love me despite it all and respect my choices.

I press forward, channeling power into the invisible wall in much the same way I fed the girl my power. The unseen wall bursts after a few minutes. I find myself wiping sweat away from my forehead afterwards, as if I'd just sprinted a fourth of a mile.

"Well, if I accomplish nothing else, at least these spells will teach me the limits of my raw power," I mutter as I move forward.

A pitch black room is my next challenge. I banish the darkness away with a halo of fire. A bare room that feels devoid of all life comes next. Then I am there, I make it.

Luna is a white statue made of stone. Even from a few feet away I can tell she is a well-detailed wolf. Her paws are stretched, her back taunt; she looks as if she is truly running. There is power in her that I can neither touch nor feel but I know that it is there and it calls to me.

She mesmerizes me and I am drawn to her as a fly is bewitched with light. It is the cold glint in her onyx eyes that has me retreating – and that movement that saves my life.

A second after I step back, a beam falls where I'd been standing. Then a huge section of the ceiling caves in on my left. A large brick-and-plaster rock smashes to the ground behind me. This is the witches' final spell, their guarantee that no one will have Luna, and not even my raw power can stop it.

My first instinct is to go for Luna. I dodge a falling brick, leap over the deadly beam, and snatch the statue off her infirmary-bed pedestal. The room is caving in around me, I can't make it to one of the windows in time.

There is only one place left to go – under the bed. I crawl under and wedge myself in the center, Luna pressed safely against my chest. I close my eyes and picture the night's sky during a full moon – it just feels like the right thing to do.

My ears start ringing in time with the collapsing wing. I keep my mind focused on my dream of nighttime. I don't notice when the world stops caving in, the ringing is too loud by that point. The ringing doesn't even stop when I feel the bed being ripped off me. Aaron's worried face swims in my vision.

"Maggie, you're bleeding," he says, but his voice sounds so far away.

I hold out Luna to him and then, I faint.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: The Originals belongs to Julie Plec and The CW, I am only playing with their characters for fun - lots of fun.

Chapter Five

I dream of a cemetery while I'm out. There are black crypts and white crypts, new and very old crypts, and the crypts go on and on in an endless maze. I see my blonde-haired, sort-of twin among the graves; she is holding her ears and screaming. Aaron is there too, searching the ground on his hands and knees. And finally there is a light, not sunlight or the bonds of love I see, but something far more powerful and breathtaking.

Then I wake up to an incessant, poking finger on my cheek. I groan, find the energy to move backwards, and swat at the finger.

"Oh good, you're awake," I hear Aaron say; "Hurry up, get up, you don't want to miss this!"

"What?" I moan and open my eyes.

"Come on! Leo's about to make the offering!" Aaron replies, bouncing with excitement, and then he disappears.

I blink twice and find myself in a dark blue tent. It takes me a couple tries to undo the zipper of my sleeping bag and roll myself free. I stand up; half stooped over in the tent, and discover there is blood on my shirt.

I can vaguely recall Aaron saying I was bleeding. But when I touch my face, I find no evidence of blood. Apparently somebody has cleaned me up.

"Come on Maggie! Speed it up!" Aaron calls impatiently, banging on the tent's flap.

I spot my black bag shoved into a corner. I pull out my cleanest change of clothes – black jeans and a sleeveless, dark green shirt with a short, black shrug. A quick scrub cleans up my boots and my fingers brush my hair into place as best they can. Then I join Aaron outside the tent.

We are in the middle of a camp; over a dozen tents of various sizes are pitched about the trees. The sun is setting, glinting off a nearby body of water. A fire is burning close at hand; I can hear the wood crackling and smell chili cooking.

"Where are we?" I question Aaron.

"In the bayou, at our camp, come on," he replies, then grabs my hand and pulls me along.

He leads me through the trees, around the tents, and into a small clearing next to the lake I'd spotted earlier. The fire pit sits here, dinner cooking, and majority, if not all, of Aaron's pack is gathered here.

They are a rag-tag group of roughly forty kids and they look like street kids, only they smell better and are cleaner. The youngest among them is a dark-haired girl about two-years-old, the rest range from her age to their early twenties. Not one of them appears to be older than Leo though.

I earn looks from pretty much every pack member. Some are curious, most are wary, and a few look interested in saying something to me. The sight of Aaron leading me by the hand to a front row seat that faces the lake seems to assuage most of the wary werewolves. The seat, to put it kindly, is nothing more than a fallen log-turned-bench. I sit and make myself comfortable; if I get a splinter, at least I know I'll heal in a matter of minutes.

When Brutus trots up to me and asks for a belly rub, I oblige him, and the soft conversations resume behind my back.

"Here," Khloe appears on my left, pushing a bowl of fresh chili and a slice of bread under my nose; "Figure you're starving again, sleeping away most of the day."

"Thanks," I accept her peace-offering and dig in, because she is right about how hungry I am.

I can totally believe that I'd slept away almost a whole day, with how tired I feel I'm surprised I'm not still dead to the world. I've only felt this way twice before, when I'd healed friends who'd technically died, but weren't so far gone I couldn't save them. I push those memories out of my mind; I didn't like to think of those terror-filled moments. Better to focus on how good the chili tastes.

"What's going on here?" I ask once I've come up for air.

"Leo's preparing to make the offering that will bestow Luna's protection on the entire pack," Khloe tells me.

"A little blood from every family in the pack," Aaron holds out a bandaged fingertip.

"Hush," Khloe hisses before Aaron can explain more; "It's starting."

Aaron quivers silently beside me in excitement as the rest of the camp quiets again. Leo walks out of the trees and onto the small bit of shoreline; a lit torch in one hand, Luna clutched in the other. A copper-skinned boy with a crew cut and serious muscles follows after him, carefully carrying a small wooden bowl and a cloth satchel.

"That's Shane," Aaron whispers in my ear; "The men in his family have been the shamans for their packs for generations. He didn't get all his training, but he's the only shaman we've got."

Khloe hushes Aaron again as Leo and Shane finish their set up. Luna is set on a stump along the edge of the lake, her back to the water. The torch is stuck in the ground at an angle to Luna's left. Shane produces two incense sticks from his satchel, lights them, and places them at Luna's right. The bowl of blood goes at the statue's feet.

"My brothers and sisters," Leo faces the pack, "we are gathered here tonight to partake in an ancient ceremony. When we make our offering to Luna at sunset we will be linking ourselves together in a way no pack has done for generations. When it is done, we will be bonded to Luna, the nurturing mother. Just as a mother wolf hides her children from danger, so Luna will hide us; to protect us from our enemies. No longer will vampires be able to smell us, witches to sense us, and werewolves to track us by the call of blood. When in danger, she will conceal us. When in trouble, she will aid us. We will no longer have to live in fear or keep to the edges of society. We'll get to go back to school, see our friends, and live the lives we want to live. And all this is possible because of our brother, Aaron, and our new friend, the witch Maggie."

The pack cheers and stomps, feeling like one giant drum behind me. Several kids slap Aaron on the back in congratulations and a younger girl hugs him. It is hard not to get swept up in the happiness of the moment. With the wave of one hand though, Leo quiets everyone.

"Now then, let's begin," he says and turns to Shane.

In the fading twilight, Leo, as alpha, kneels before the statue and beseeches Luna to protect her children. Shane hands Leo a blade, the alpha pricks his finger and adds his blood as the final drop to the bowl. Then Leo holds up the bowl, dipping Luna's muzzle and her front paws in the blood while Shane chants in a strange tongue.

My heartbeat picks up; beating in time to drums I cannot hear but feel pounding through my blood. My senses come alive as Shane reaches the crescendo of his incantation. I can hear the critters of the forest scurrying away from the pack's campsite in terror. The smell of rich earth, cool water, and the warm bodies around me assault my nose. The sweat beading on Leo and Shane's foreheads is visible, clear-as-day from where I sit as my vision become hypersensitive.

I feel almost like a wolf myself. As if I belong here, with this pack.

Then a howling wind rushes through the camp, tent flaps flutter and loose hair billows. Luna is bathed in moonlight as Shane stops chanting and the moment is lost. The sense of ancient, welcoming power does not go away however.

"To Luna!" one of the pack shouts and the call is picked up as a party breaks out.

On a hunch, I repeat the spell the blonde-haired girl had used. Then I close my eyes and see the scene in a new light. Luna is magic, but nature also. As such the statue is like a wind, present and barely felt, but very much there. And tiny breezes branch off of Luna, touching every member of the pack and surprisingly, me as well.

I am still a fire-light-storm; the werewolves are churning, warm earth. Except Aaron, he is a lazy stream with muddy banks, a mixture; somewhat like the girl, somewhat like the wolves. He also has a pinprick of nothingness-magic on him that feels like it's muffling him.

I don't understand what it all means.

"Ready to go?" Leo asks me, snapping me back to the situation at hand.

My eyes open and I am surprised to see the bond between Luna and the pack has manifested in my second sight. Chords of silver now interlaces with the pack, leading back to Luna, and blazing brightest off Leo. There is ever a little chord attached to me.

"Go where?" I ask, blinking away my distraction.

"You held up your end of the deal, now it's time for me to honor mine," Leo explains as I stand up; "We've got to go back to the Quarter, to find Marcel. He's the one who will help you get into contact with Davina; she's the best witch to help you find your family."

"Okay," I reply, then spot Shane taking off with the white wolf; "What will happen to Luna now?"

"We'll move her some place safe. Some place where witches can't find her, where vampires can't go and the other wolves won't think to look. We'll protect her from now on, as she protects us. That's the deal we made with her."

"That doesn't sound very easy," I comment as I trek behind Leo through the trees, leaving the partying camp behind.

"We'll manage, we always have before."

"Well maybe, once I learn more about my magic, I'll be able to put a spell around Luna to guard her from everyone outside of your pack," I think out loud.

"Why would you do that?" Leo stops walking suddenly and I nearly crash into him.

"Because it's the right thing to do and I like helping others," I retort and then get serious; "You said I'm a friend to the pack and friends help each other out when in need."

If I wanted to be sappy I suppose could add that I feel almost at home with his pack. His people understand what I am and they accept me in the way I hope my family will. Besides in the short time I've known Aaron, I've grown rather attached to him, and to Brutus.

That isn't something Leo needs to know though. After a moment's consideration, Leo accepts my explanation and my offer with a nod of his head and we start walking again. When we reach the car, I don't immediately get in.

"What are you waiting for?" Leo asks.

"I'm waiting for Aaron to stop hiding and get in," I answer, surprising both werewolves.

From behind the tree where he's been hiding out of visible sight, but easy to spot with my second sight, Aaron slinks into sight.

"How'd you know I was there?" Aaron asks, loping up to me while Leo curses softly.

"Magic," is my vague answer.

I may like Aaron and respect Leo; I even trust them, but my ability to see the bonds of love is highly personal to me. As much I consider them friends, this isn't one secret I'm ready to share just yet. Telling Brutus was different.

"Aaron, what were you thinking? What if I'd mistaken you for an enemy?" Leo snaps.

"But you didn't, I stalked you just like Khloe's been training me to do; besides Luna would've protected me and Maggie would've stopped you," Aaron grins with complete confidence; "And I wanted to see Maggie off, I want to meet this family of hers and tell them that they might get first dibs, but she's a part of our family too now."

I awe silently and pull Aaron in for a hug.

"That's one of the nicest things a person has ever said about me," I tell him.

"It's just the truth, no need to get mushy over it," he informs me with his deflective shrug.

I tussle up his hair, making him swat at me as I push him towards the car door. Leo watches us impassively from the driver's side. I give him my most game smile, what can I say? Aaron is like the little brother I never knew I wanted.

"You can come along, but you do exactly as I say, you hear?" Leo sets the rules once Aaron is in and buckled up.

"Got it," Aaron replies with two thumbs up and a giant grin for me.

The drive into New Orleans is spent with Aaron regaling me with tales of his misadventures with other members of the pack. He is just finishing up one story, about how he and a pack-member named Charlie, stole a dozen chickens from a farmer and released them in the halls of their middle school, when we reach the city limits. Leo pulls into a parking lot and retrieves his phone.

"What's going on?" I ask as he looks up several contacts.

"I'm not entirely sure where Marcel is hanging tonight, so I'm going to call around until I find an ally that can direct us to him," Leo explains.

"You should try someone named Cami first," I suggest, remembering the blonde girl's message.

Of course, then I have to explain about the witch I'd met while retrieving Luna. Leo isn't all that pleased, mostly because he doesn't recognize my description of the girl who apparently knows his name. There is nothing that can be done about her now since I don't know her name, just as she doesn't know mine, and I think the situation is relatively safe because of that. Still Leo calls back to the camp, to check on the pack and tell Shane to move Luna to a more secure location immediately. Then Leo starts up the car again and pulls out on the street.

"Where are we going?" I ask since Leo doesn't feel like volunteering the information.

"To Rousseau's," Leo replies, tartly; "If Marcel is really with Cami, then that's where they'll be, seeing as how she owns the place. Even if your witch friend is wrong, Cami's the leader of the human faction and I've heard she's fair with the packs, she'll be able to help us find Marcel regardless."


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: See the previous chapters.

Chapter Six

Leo parks in a lot just outside the French Quarter. He's on a first name basis with the attendant, Joe, and doesn't even have to pay. Aaron whispers to me as we walk that Joe's one of the few humans in-the-know and that he gets paid handsomely for his silence.

I don't get the chance to ask what all Joe is keeping silent on. We reach the Quarter and everything gets noisy and crowded. Leo has me keep a hold of Aaron while he leads us through the mess of bodies.

"Stay here," Leo stations us next to a support column outside of Rousseau's; "I'll go see if Marcel is here and will get you if he is."

"Why can't we come with you?" I question.

"I'm not taking underage teens into a bar," Leo replies and then he is gone.

"It's not like I was asking him to buy me a drink," I grumble and Aaron snickers even after I give him a half-hearted glare.

I lean against the column and watch the ordinary people go about their nights. There are the already wasted drunks, bar-hoppers, and sneaky friends with fake IDs. Music fills the streets, taking on a life of its own with each new note. Greasy food is passed around, there is laughter and jokes, and everything blazes with color. There's so much going here it's hard to believe a world exists outside the Quarter.

Aaron slumps against the pole next to me, sighing in boredom. For him I guess this is all old news, a sight he's seen a thousand times. I drink in this new sight and decide it will never get old for me.

I do draw my gaze away from the scenery when Aaron pulls a necklace out from under his shirt. The necklace is a pewter wolf on a black chain and Aaron fiddles with it while we wait. Even without the spell, I know this is the magic I sensed on Aaron earlier.

"What is that?" I ask, pointing to the necklace.

"Oh it's nothing," Aaron says with a shrug.

"Doesn't seem like nothing to me," I pry gently and tease; "Did your sweetheart give you that?"

"Ew, gross," Aaron denies, making gagging faces; "I'm only thirteen."

"So what? I know plenty of thirteen-year-olds who are dating."

"It isn't really dating when your parents have to drive you and your girl around and pay for everything, that's just hanging out," Aaron tells me and I decide he's got a romantic heart building up beneath all the goofiness; "Besides, I doubt any of the other thirteen-years-olds you met are like me."

"That is true," I concede, but don't give up; "So if it isn't from your girlfriend, then where'd you get the wolf?"

"My dad," Aaron sighs after a long pause.

He radiates a white light now, the color of loving someone who has died.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay, you didn't know," Aaron excuses me; "The necklace is all I have left of him. He gave it to me when I was little. I was a baby when my dad took us to the bayou to live in Leo's uncle's pack. He wanted to keep me safe, out of the war, after my mom died. He tried his best, but the war found us anyway. He died when I was three, I don't remember him very well, but I do remember him telling me once that this necklace would protect me."

Saying I'm sorry again isn't good enough. Condolences can't take that sad look out of Aaron's eyes. I hug him tight instead, resting my chin on the top of his head. Aaron buries his head on my shoulder and hugs me back until he's recovered. Then he pulls back and gives me a toothy smile.

"You know, he was right about my wolf. Back when those Rippers had me, I held onto my necklace and that promise, and then you came and saved me."

"That was more Brutus's doings than the necklace's," I tell him, ruffling his hair.

I can't bring myself to tell him the truth just yet. Besides, I might be wrong; maybe the necklace is spelled to protect him. I'm still too new to this whole magic thing, I don't want to ruin Aaron's few memories of his father with a claim I can't prove. So I say noting and hope the necklace isn't muzzling him as I fear it is.

"Marcel wants to meet out back," Leo says when he returns a short time later.

"Does he not want to help me?" I ask as Leo guides us to an open alley behind Rousseau's.

"Marcel is protective of Davina; he wants to meet you face-to-face before he sends you to her."

"And we couldn't have had this meeting in the bar because?"

"Neither he nor Cami want a minor in the bar any more than I do," Leo frowns at me; "Aaron keep watch, we'll be back in a few minutes."

"But," Aaron goes to argue and Leo silences him with a look.

Then Leo and I venture forth to the backside of Rousseau's while Aaron stands guard at the mouth.

The back alley to the bar is actually really clean. The Dumpster is kept farther away from the back door than normal and downwind from sensitive noses. A delivery truck blocks the other end of the alley to cut off foot traffic. Strung up lights create a more relaxed mood around the half dozen tables and chairs that sit outside Rousseau's back door. I wonder if they have private parties out here sometimes and if so, why.

A blond woman sits at one of the tables. She's somewhere in her late thirties, early forties and dressed in business casual blouse and jeans. She smiles kindly as we draw near, standing up to greet us. There is a chord of light on her that I recognize – she knows and cares about my almost-twin, but isn't her mother, that's a very different light. I'm confused as to why this woman is here since we're supposed to be meeting Marcel.

A black man with his hair buzzed short suddenly appears in front of me. I let out a little shriek and back-pedal. Leo grabs my arm to stop me from getting too far. Definitely a vampire with that speed; I conclude he must be the Marcel I've heard so much about since meeting Aaron. I note he has on a maroon shirt and dark jacket, then I focus on his face.

"Was that really necessary?" I demand of the vampire.

Marcel doesn't answer; he and the blonde are too busy looking at me in shock. I can see that they both know and care about my blonde lookalike, but they don't need to look as if they've seen a ghost; plenty of people have doubles in real life.

"What? Do I have something on my face?" I ask to snap them out of it.

"Marcel?" Leo asks at the same time.

"My apologies, you just happen to look a lot like someone I know," Marcel replies, sincerely.

Before I can bring up the girl, to ask about her, the blonde woman pushes her way forward.

"Hello, I'm Cami and as you've heard this is Marcel. What's your name sweetheart?"

"People call me Maggie," I say as we shake hands.

"That's a lovely name. Leo says you need to talk to Davina about locating some missing family members, may I ask why?" Cami asks politely.

Marcel is giving me a sharp look as if he's weighting all my words, preparing to pass judgment. Cami smiles at me and I wonder how often they play this good-cop, bad-cop routine.

"I'm a witch and Davina's a witch, if anyone can help me find my family it's someone like me," I start out and then decide it will just be easier to give them the whole story; "I came to New Orleans to find my real parents. Fifteen years ago I was found when I was only a few days old, sleeping outside a crypt in one of the cemeteries here. The state believes my parents abandoned me, but I never have, especially now that I know about the supernatural war that was going on back then."

"You were found next to a crypt?" Cami repeats; then drops her smile for a serious expression; "You're Margaret Leblanc, the runaway from Iowa. The police have been searching for you. Your mother is worried about you."

"She's not my mother and she doesn't care me!" I snap; "My family is here in New Orleans. This is where I belong!"

I start backing away. My flight instinct is on high at the mention of my foster mother. If Cami convinces Marcel and Leo to side with her and send me back, then I have to be ready to run. I am **not** going back.

I take two steps back and then hit a solid chest. I turn to find Marcel behind me. He gives me an unamused look and grabs my arm. Then he looks at Cami.

"If Maggie is a witch," Marcel says.

"She is," Leo confirms; "Trust me, she is."

"Then she's right, she belongs here among her own kind," Marcel continues and sweet relief flows through me body, relaxing tense muscles that were ready to charge; "A human family won't be able to help her or understand her. She needs to be with the witches. I know the human faction won't like it, but it's what's best for Maggie. Once we find her birth family, we can work something out with her adoptive family."

"Or we can tell them nothing," I say and the adults frown at me.

"Leo, you know how to get to St. Anne's from here?" Marcel asks and Leo gives him a quick affirmative; "Davina's waiting for Maggie there. Cami and I will follow along shortly."

Leo doesn't quite mask his quizzical look as he leads me back to Aaron and the street.

"Something wrong?"

"This is witches' business now, there's no reason for them to tag along."

"Do you think they're going to tell the police about me?"

"No, Marcel won't do that. He'll talk Cami around. When your birth parents are found, that will certainly help convince the human faction leaders to leave you alone."

"Good, because I am not going back," I state a little more venomously than I mean to reveal.

I march on ahead, sighting Aaron in the distance, ignoring the questioning look Leo shoots me. Iowa is my past, New Orleans is my future.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: The Originals belong to Julie Plec and the CW, not me, yada yada yada.

Chapter Seven

By the time we reach St. Anne's, Leo is still shooting me occasional looks, but I've put the conversation behind me. Little butterflies flitter in my stomach as I get a good look at the church. I'm so close to answers I can practically taste them on my tongue.

The moment the car parks, I'm out the door. I stand on the sidewalk, look towards my destination, and take a deep breath to steady myself.

St. Anne's is an old church with pretty glass mosaics, older than any other church I've ever been to. Its dark stones have weathered at least a century if not more, giving the holy place a lot of character, like most buildings in New Orleans. It has a nicely groomed yard out from and a well-cared for appearance.

"Maggie, I hope you don't mind, but Aaron and I are going to stay here," Leo breaks my inspection.

"What?" Aaron gets ready to argue, but Leo shushes him with a wave.

"Marcel can already sense something different about me. The witches will know exactly what happened if we go in there now. Tomorrow night when the gift settles, they won't be able to sense Luna's protection anymore, unless they attack one of us. Shane hasn't moved Luna to her new home yet and until he does we can't take the risk of anyone finding out about her."

"That's fine, you've already upheld your end of the deal," I point out; "You helped me reach the witches, there's no reason for you to stay at all."

"But I want to meet your family," Aaron reminds me.

"That can be arranged for later, I'm not going anywhere once I find them."

"We'll stay," Leo declares with finality; "You exceeded your half, it's only fair we do the same. We'll stick with you until you meet your family."

"Thank you," I smile and hug them both.

Leo is stiff and our hug is short, but Aaron hugs me back and rocks us back and forth before he lets go.

Then I head for the church on my own. The closer I get to St. Anne's the thicker the air becomes. It's not oppressive or choking or uncomfortable, it's just a noticeable difference that I can feel. I suspect that it's some kind of magic, but not curses like at the sanatorium.

"Beautiful isn't it?" Cami asks from behind me.

A little startled I turn to look at her and Marcel, who stands behind her. There is a longing in her, like in Aaron when he held his wolf necklace.

"Is this place important to you?" I wonder.

"This place has been a lot of things to me in the past," her answer tells me there's a long, complicated history there; "It's where my uncle and brother used to work."

And both of them are dead I see from the pulsing bonds, the reason for her longing.

"They were both intermediaries between the supernatural factions and the humans, like me. It's not an easy job," and I have a feeling I know where this conversation is going; "But I've learned a lot since I took over. I still think you should give your adoptive family some closure, but I understand that you belong here and I won't force you to leave."

Well that is an improvement. I smile and agree to give closure to my foster family. Mentally I add, so long as I don't have to see them ever again.

"How about we go inside ladies," Marcel guides Cami forward; "Davina's rather impatient to meet you Maggie."

"She is?"

"Yes, she's heard quite a bit about you from a little birdie it seems."

"And that little birdie would be me," says my blonde double as she holds open St. Anne's doors.

"What are you doing here?" Marcel and I ask at the same time, though he adds on a "Little Mouse."

"I came to see you fire witch," the blonde smiles at me.

Then she pulls me indoors because I'm taking too long standing there, staring at her.

"Do your parents know you're here?" Marcel questions.

Standing together I can see how powerful bonds are connecting my lookalike, Marcel, and Cami. That tells me that they're a close-knit family and I wonder a little about the rest of their family if this is how just the three of them look. The thing that really bugs me is that the light connecting them isn't the same light I saw when Marcel spoke of me resembling a person he knows.

"Of course they know I'm here, Uncle Kol came with me," the blonde rolls her eyes; "The whole family would've come, expect they know how Davina feels about them."

"Is something wrong?" Cami asks, sounding very concerned.

"You mean besides the fact someone's cast a spell around Little Mouse and her mother that Davina and her witches can't remove or figure out what its bloody well supposed to do?" a dark-haired man asks as he joins our group at the end of the pews.

I'd guess that he's in his thirties though he's wearing a rock band t-shirt and skinny jeans more appropriate for a younger man. He has an accent, definitely British.

"We'll figure it out," the little mouse appeases Marcel and Cami.

"Who's this?" the British man asks, looking at me with the same look Cami and Marcel had when they first saw me.

"This is Maggie, the witch needing Davina's help," Marcel begins the introductions; "Though apparently she and Little Mouse have already met."

"It was more of a passing acquaintance," the blonde girl says with a smirk; "Nice to meet you Maggie, I'm Faith."  
"No you're not," I reply without thinking, the lie too blatant for me to not speak up.

"Really?" the foreign man questions with an edge to his tone.

"She's all right Uncle Kol. She's just a baby witch. A very powerful baby witch, but nice and helpful," the girl says soothingly; then turns to me; "Faith's not my real name, but it's what I have to go by to stay safe. It's a really long story you're probably never going to hear."

"Okay, Faith," I agree, because at least that's the truth.

"By the way, I went back to the sanatorium, like what you did with the place."

"I didn't do anything," I try to argue but Faith gives me a dubious look; "I didn't do most of it. That last curse was really brutal."

"Wait, you're the chit that went after Luna on your own? How are you alive?" Kol looks suitably impressed with me.

"I told you, she's powerful," Faith retorts.

"Where's the statue?" Kol moves on but I pretend I don't hear him.

"You told your family about me?" I ask Faith.

I'd been under the impression she wasn't going to mention me. Not if she wanted to win that bet.

"I had to. Uncle Elijah knew I couldn't have found the dark object so quickly on my own and he just watched me, patiently, until I told him the truth," Faith widens her eyes and stares at me in what I assume is an imitation of her uncle; "Then he made me take him and Dad to the sanatorium, to see if we needed to rescue you. Only, the entire west wing was gone and neither you nor Luna was there. They all thought you were dead, but I knew you'd survived. And I was right and I still get to take a peek at a more advanced spell."

Then Marcel pulls me around to look at him. He stares at me intently and I'm a little weirded out as I look back at him.

"You're going to tell me where Luna is," he orders.

"Marcel!" I hear Cami berate him.

I feel a sharp pain in between my eyes. It's like a sudden headache, but I don't know what's causing it. The pain gets worse the longer Marcel stares at me.

"Where is Luna?" he prompts me again.

"Somewhere safe," I tell him and tear my eyes away.

Everybody's talking at once, no one's happy. I ignore them all in favor of shutting my eyes and massaging the bridge of my nose. I've never had a headache before; I heal too fast to have them. I only know what they feel like because I've healed others of migraines and such, but that pain lasts only a few seconds at most. This headache lasts a couple minutes and goes away just in time for Kol to force my head up by my chin.

"Amazing, no vervain on her or in her system and she's not a werewolf, yet she's resisted compulsion," he says as he peers into my eyes; "You must tell me your secret love."

"Are you saying he just compelled me?" I shoot Marcel a glare.

"He tried, he didn't succeed," Faith is equal parts impressed and amused.

"Which shouldn't have happened," Marcel watches me warily; "I'd like to know how."

"How am I supposed to know?" I complain; "I've never been compelled before."

"How can you not know?" Cami asks.

"Maybe I can help figure that out," a new voice adds to the mix.

We all turn to look at a brunette in a flowing red dress about the same age as Kol. She stands at the end of the pews, back to the altar, a basket of roses in her hands.

"Hello Maggie, I'm Davina Claire," she says to me as she walks to join us; "I hear you'd like my help."

"Can you help me find my family?" I ask as that is the only question that matters.

"I believe so," Davina replies; "But it may take some time."

"Then let's get started," I step forward and Faith follows, linking our arms.

"This is going to be fun," she says with her devilish grin.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: See any of the previous chapters - I own nothing but my OCs.

Chapter Eight

Four other witches from Davina's coven join us at St. Anne's to help with the spells. Faith informs me that she's technically not a part of Davina's coven, she's just learning her craft from them. Another vampire also joins us before the work begins.

Faith tells me this dark-haired youth in Greaser clothing is named Josh. He's apparently a very dear friend of Davina's from her teenage years and he works with Marcel. Between Josh and Marcel I discover vampires have an extra brightness to their bonds of love, as long as they aren't like the Rippers that went after Aaron. I can't figure out a way to bring vampire emotions up with Faith that won't have her questioning me, so I can't find out why either case exists. I tuck the question away for a later date.

With all the witches, it's easy to see that they all share a bond with the earth. It's a steady, nurturing yellow bond, reminding me of the sun feeding the plants. I'm confused though as I have this bond as well, but it's faint and not nearly as vibrant as Davina's and Faith's.

"Fifteen years ago there weren't that many new witches born here in New Orleans," Davina tells me as I sit in the center of a circle of white chalk.

Davina is before me, just outside the circle; Kol is directly behind me, and the other witches of the coven are spaced evenly between them. Marcel, Josh, Cami, and Faith are all watching from a safe distance.

"All of those babies are accounted for today, in fact I have had a hand in all of their training," Davina continues; "However that only means your family is not a part of my coven. I've already reached out to the other covens in and around New Orleans. While we wait, I thought we might try a locator spell to find your parents; it will require some of your blood."

"That's fine," I agree, perhaps a little too excitedly.

"This may not work," Davina cautions me; "If your family is cloaked, it will reveal nothing."

"But you have other magic you can try, right?"

"There are a few spells."

"Then let's do this, something's bound to work eventually."

"I like this one's spirit," Kol chuckles.

The witches bring candles and a map. The map is of New Orleans and a few of the surrounding parishes.

"Better to start wide and then hone in," Davina explains.

Davina warns the vampires before she slices my left index finger. Three red drops later and Davina hands me a handkerchief. I use it to rub the remaining blood off my already healed finger. Then I slip the handkerchief into my pocket, nobody mentions a thing as we're all focused on Davina.

Davina chants the spell softly, but it's still easy to hear every word. As she repeats the spell over and over, I have plenty of time to memorize it.

I watch the blood drops on the map, willing them to move. At first, nothing happens. Then the three drops pool together into one large drop. The drop rolls towards the center of New Orleans, where it splits in two.

The drops flow away from each other in curving angles, forming two little hills. Then the drops curve back together, until they create a heart. They divide again and move outside the heart until they meet again. The end result is one heart contained within a circle, the bottom tip of the heart touching the circle.

I stare at that symbol, knowing it's important. But I don't understand what it's trying to tell me, yet.

"Well that's interesting," Kol comments, standing behind me.

"Did it work?" Faith trots over to look.

"It didn't work," Davina folds the map and places it under a candle.

She looks at me now, perplexed. I glance at the map, mind churning. I don't miss her sharp look at my healed finger.

"What do you want to try next love?" Kol quizzes Davina.

"We need to commune with the ancestors," Davina answers with a decisive nod.

The effect is not comforting. The other witches start murmuring. Faith inhales sharply and Marcel curses so loud I can hear him clearly – quite an inventive phrase.

"That's a bit drastic Davina, are you sure?" even Kol looks worried.

Kol doesn't strike me as the worried type.

"It is," Davina looks at me determined.

No one bothers to explain to me why communing with the ancestors is so drastic. The fact Marcel hauls Faith out of the church over his shoulder, her yelling at him the entire way is also disconcerting. I'm almost willing to pass on this magic ceremony, but my desire to find my parents wins.

My experience with contacting dead people is nonexistent, unless what I've seen in movies counts. I don't put too much faith in Hollywood dramatizations, though they have had some things right about the other supernaturals. Still I do have some expectations about this séance with old spirits.

The set up for this spell is certainly not what I'm expecting. We sit inside the white circle, Davina and I, facing each other. There is a collection of herbs and plants, Davina doesn't bother to tell me their names; she just arranges them in a row between us. She spills out a clear liquid from a vial onto the plans and places a lit candle on either side of the herb collection.

"Give me your hands," Davina instructs me.

I hold them out, palms up. Davina has me turn my hands palms down and then slides hers palms under mine. I wonder if she can feel my rapidly beating pulse; I imagine I can feel hers pulsing steady against my hands.

In a language I don't understand, possibly the same language she used in the spell before, Davina chants. There's pressure building, building and my nose begins to itch. Davina's brow furrows as a wind swirls through the circle, but nowhere else.

The next thing I know, Davina's rearing back, releasing my hands. It takes me a few blinks to realize Davina is hurt. There's a cut on her cheek, her nose is bleeding, and she's ghastly pale. My response is automatic.

I reach out and grab her hand. My healing flames leap into being and connect us. In seconds, Davina's cut is gone and her nose healed. I staunch my bleeding nose with a finger; there is no point in pulling out the handkerchief when I'll be fine in a few minutes.

"What the heck?" it's Faith with Marcel behind her.

Everyone is staring at me in shock, as if they've never seen magic like mine. Everyone that is, except Kol. Kol is looking at me with a combination of fear and calculation. I wipe the dry blood off my face.

"Test her blood against the elements," he barks out.

A bowl and blade are shoved into the circle. Davina grabs my hand before I can resist and cuts me. She holds my hand over the bowl, collecting what blood she can before my palm heals. Luckily, one-fourth of blood in the bowl is enough for her and she doesn't cut me again.

"What are you doing? What's going on?" I ask to no avail.

Davina mutters a spell and crooks her left hand above the bowl. A burst of air hits the bowl. The herbs and plants under the bowl are scattered, but my blood doesn't even ripple.

Another witch hands Davina a handful of dirt. Davina drops it in the bowl and mutters another spell. My blood fizzes about the dirt and ejects it from the bowl.

I start to feel a little queasy. From deep in my bones, I feel heat gathering. I know what will happen if that heat reaches my blood; it could be good, it could be bad. The real problem is that I won't be able to stop it if she releases it.

"Please, stop," I beg, but Davina doesn't listen. Kol is behind me, holding me in place now.

Water is next, dribbled into the bowl from a water bottle. Davina doesn't even have to bother with a spell this time. Upon contact with my blood, the water sizzles and evaporates.

Sweat is beading on my body. I'm breathing raggedly, fists clenched at my sides. I'm trying to control the heat. Kol's hands on my shoulders are hard, bruising, and I am helpless to stop Davina. In the same way, I am incapable of stopping what's to come from inside me.

"Look at the girl Davina, stop!" Marcel shouts and Kol bellows at him.

With a whisper, Davina collects the flames of all the candles into one small fire on her palm. It burns just above her palm – she cannot touch fire the way I can. Then Davina directs the fire into the bowl. The fire hits my blood and is absorbed.

There is silence in the church. Sweat drips off my nose as Davina stares at my untouched blood. What does it mean? I want to ask, but I don't get the chance.

Kol releases my shoulders and steps between Davina and me. He points his fingers at the bowl. He speaks one word, no, commands it. And even though I don't understand it, I know it is a terrible word, a word of death.

My blood disappears in a blinding light. The bowl is consumed in a bright white fire. When the fire goes out, my blood remains. Without the bowl to hold it apart my blood is soaked up by the plants and herbs.

At the same time, there is a pop in my chest. The heat of my bones meets my blood and everything happens at once.

The chalk circle catches fire, roaring high. Kol pulls Davina close to him as everyone starts screaming and yelling. The herbs and plants around me are revived, shooting roots into miniscule cracks and deep into the ground, sprouting new leaves as they take root.

A cool wind rushes into the church, howling. The fire circle is put out and just in time. The heat inside me explodes and I am on fire.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I wish I did, I wish I might, own the rights for which I write tonight - but I don't and Julie Plec and The CW are the lucky ones who own The Originals. Sigh.

Chapter Nine

Flames lick the air around me. Bright orange-yellow flames tipped with blue. They leap and flicker; across my skin, my hair, my clothes. Nothing is burning, but I am on fire. This is a power I have endured only a few times. Uncontrollable flames that will not hurt me, but if they escape can cause massive damage – the memory of a house blazing is seared into my mind.

I have to get out of the church. Everything in here is chaos. I have to channel this power into something good – I've managed that once before.

I run. No one tries to stop me. I make it outside. I can feel the cool air, but that isn't enough to quench these flames.

There is uncultivated grass just past the sidewalk. I collapse to my knees, fingers digging into the dirt. I breathe in, close my eyes, and breathe out. As I exhale I channel the flames into the ground.

There is grass, weeds, and a decomposing seed. My power touches all of these and feeds them. The grass and weeds grow wild and thick. When my energy reaches the seed, it focuses.

The seed is revived and grows. As with the plants, the roots dig in first, deep and strong. Then a green shoot bursts to the surface. A sapling grows in minutes and then becomes a healthy, young tree. The tree ages at least five years before its growth slows, the last of my excess power nearly used up.

As the energy diminishes the tree's branches creak slowly to a natural growth and catch my attention. Peering into the branches, all else fades around me as I am caught in a vision.

A picture forms, not on the tree but in my mind's eye. First it is blackness, and then there are splashes of color creating neon outlines. The image focuses and washes out to become a crypt. It is a gray crypt with an angel watching over it, but no name that I can see. I am filled with the knowledge that this tomb is where I was born, the place I should have been found all those years ago.

There are voices near me, a hand on my shoulder. I ignore the distractions. I know I cannot give into them just yet. I have to focus on my vision, to collect the final pieces of information it has to give. If I don't I feel certain I will not find my true home.

The image flows away from the tomb. It traces a path I cannot follow, zigzagging its way through the cemetery. Then it stops at the entrance to the graveyard and tilts up. Now I have the name:

Lafayette.

With a snap and a flash, the vision is gone. I find myself on my knees at the base of a sturdy oak tree. I am no longer on fire, but the world is still noisy.

"Maggie, Maggie," Aaron calls to me, gently shaking my shoulder.

I turn to face him, but he is blurry. I reach up to rub my eyes, only to brush away my tears instead – happy tears. I am nearly home, I'm sure of it.

Aaron is worried and so is Leo who stands several feet away. I spot Faith at the bottom of the church steps. I can sense the spell she's placed on the doors to lock the adults in.

"Maggie, are you all right?" Aaron pokes me to get my undivided attention.

"I'm fine," I stand up to prove it.

Then I feel this rush of liquid light and suddenly know where I must go – Lafayette Cemetery. Inside my head I feel this call, like a map, that will guide me to my goal, this I know without a doubt.

"I'm better than fine," I grin at Aaron.

I take several steps in the direction I need to go. But then Faith is there, blocking my way. Behind me, Aaron has grabbed a hold of my arm, trying to keep me in place.

"Let me go," I plead with them; "This is important. I have to go. I know where I can get my answers now."

I look them both in the eye and repeat myself, willing them to understand. Faith frowns and fights an internal battle. Aaron lets me go with a sad, puppy-dog expression.

"Take Aaron with you," Leo orders; "I'll calm Marcel and the other down. Meet at the safe house when you're done, my pack will help you to the end."

Aaron perks up at that and grabs my hand. I accept Leo's offer with a nod and answer the call.

"The shield will drop in a couple minutes," I hear Faith tell Leo.

Then I am lost to a feeling. I close my eyes, shut off all my other senses, and just follow. I forget I'm in a traffic heavy city with other people who might block my path or cars that might hit me. I trust this guide to keep me safe.

I am barely aware of Aaron's hand in mine. When I begin running, I have just enough sense to keep to a pace he can handle. Then I am off, knowing that at the end of this race I will have the answers I crave.

In what feels like no time at all, but is probably a good half hour, I arrive. I come to a stop, panting, and open my eyes. I release Aaron's hand, to rest both of mine on my knees as I stare at the graveyard's entrance, and catch my breath.

"Why did we come here?" Faith asks, startling me.

I whirl around to face her. She's not the least bit winded unlike Aaron and me. But she stares at the cemetery with apprehension.

"I didn't ask you to come with me."

"After the show you put on back there, there's no way I'm missing out on finding out more about you," she jokes but there is too much seriousness to her face; "Uncle Kol thinks you're dangerous, I know better. But the only way I can prove him wrong is by sticking with you and seeing this through."

"Thanks," I muster up.

"So why are we at this cemetery?" Aaron echoes.

I turn around to face the entrance again. This time Aaron and Faith are on either side of me.

"It's not the cemetery I'm here for," I explain as the feeling collects into one clear thought; "There's a crypt inside that's important to my mom and dad."

"I thought you said you don't know your parents," Faith accuses.

"I don't," I answer serenely; "It's a feeling I have, sort of like how I know Faith isn't your real name. It was a similar feeling like this one that brought me to New Orleans to search for my parents in the first place."

"I've never heard of magic like that before," Aaron comments and from the look on Faith's face, she agrees.

"I can't explain it, but the answers lie in there," I step forward, ready to complete my journey.

Aaron and I are under the gate; halfway into Lafayette Cemetery, when I notice Faith isn't with us. I pivot to find her where we'd left her, staring at the tombs pensively.

"Are you afraid of cemeteries?" I ask her, surprised.

"No," Faith snaps rather unconvincingly; "I'm not afraid. It's just this cemetery and I have a history and not a good one."

"There's nothing to fear from it tonight," I say and know I'm talking about something much bigger than a walk among the dead; "I'll protect you."

I don't know what I'm protecting her from, but I know that I can and will keep my promise.

Faith gives me a weaker version of her devilish grin. Then she joins us and united we enter the Lafayette graveyard.

The crescent moon is nearing its zenith as we walk among the dead. Every foot step echoes on unforgiving stone. Each breath we exhale sounds sharp and tense, but I am not afraid. In here, my answers await. Faith though, is skittish.

"That last test, with the elements, that really freaked everyone out," I talk to help take Faith's mind off the place; "Why?"

"Every creature that walks the earth, supernatural or human, has an element that counterbalances them in a sense," Faith runs with the lesson; "Put a person's blood up against the pure form of the balancing element and both are destroyed. It's sort of an archaic way to test what faction a person belongs to. Humans are balanced with earth, werewolves with water, witches with air, and vampires with fire. But your blood wasn't balanced out by any of the elements."

"What about the Originals? Or hybrids?" Aaron pipes up.

"The Originals are still vampires, their blood burns when balanced with fire. It isn't completely destroyed afterwards, but it isn't blood anymore either," Faith explains a bit uncomfortably; "As for hybrids, a combination of fire and water is needed – tricky to achieve, but still possible."

"What does it mean that my blood doesn't have a counterbalance?" I ask, since Faith is more telling than the adults.

"I don't know, even Uncle Kol doesn't know really. He's encountered people like you before, which is why you terrify him. That death spell he tried on your blood should've obliterated it. The spell can annihilate Original blood even if it can't kill them, but it had no lasting effect on yours and that scared everybody else."

"Then I guess it's a good thing we're going to get answers soon," Aaron says optimistically after a long stretch of silence.

We all agree to that and continue walking. The feeling guides me to the correct crypt, but I know it long before we reach it. I don't know how, but the tomb crackles with the light I see every time I close my eyes. The light I know to be my parent's love for each other.

It is an unbreakable light. It is a love of deep red splashed with orange and yellow, tempered by blue and white. Their light hums and burns, swirling in upon itself and spreading far and low at the same time. Their light consumes me, warms me, and sustains me, has sustained me in all these years I've waited.

When I reach the tomb, the light disappears inside. Eagerly, I find the door, and though she is uncomfortable, Faith helps me break the chain. The three of us enter silently, it is dark inside so I call in natural fire to the palm of my hand.

We walk further into the crypt, but it appears to be empty. Then a dozen flames shoot out of one corner and take up residence, evenly spaced, throughout the room. Brighter than any candles, the flames light up the tomb.

"Hello Little Sun," a man's voice greets.

Out of the shadows steps a golden-skinned man with long, tied back, black hair and old brown eyes. He wears a white t-shirt and black pants as if they are a suit and projects an air of command. He looks no older than twenty, but his eyes say he's much older than he appears.

In my second sight, he is awash with color, but not in the way I've ever seen before. Beneath his skin a wild light rears, all red with a touch of blue and green – I have never seen anyone with light under their skin before him. Around him the bonds of love shine as with a normal person, but there is a lot of white, longing bonds about him.

"Who are you?" Faith asks sharply.

"I am called Blane, Hope Mikaelson," the man answers unphased, his gaze never leaving mine; "It is kind of you to join us and you too Aaron, son of Jackson, though your presence is unexpected."

Faith, whose real name is apparently Hope, and Aaron are both shocked. I'm a little flabbergasted myself, but now I'm certain this Blane holds the answers I seek.

"What are you?" I enquire.

"I am like you, Little Sun," Blane smiles indulgently at me, "and we are daimons."

"You're what?" Aaron scoffs.

"We are daimons, the immortal children born of impossible love," Blane takes a seat on the ground; "Please, sit down, and I will explain from the beginning. This is a lot to take in, I know. Seeing as you all already know about the supernatural world, this should be easier to digest overall."

None of us really want to sit. However, Blane just looks at us calmly, refusing to begin until we do. I sit down quickly and eagerly, Aaron flops down, and Hope grumbles about Blane being like her uncle Elijah, but she sits too.

"Now that's better," Blane flashes very white teeth at all of us; "As I was saying, daimons are the children of love, but then most children are. What sets daimons apart is the way in which we are born. Our parents overcome great obstacles in their love for each other and most often the chances of them ever meeting are so astronomically small it is next impossible that they would fall in love as well. Yet they do. It is not simply love at first sight for them, but there is an undeniable attraction between our parents from the moment they meet. It is in part, because of that attraction that our parents are drawn together again, and again, which leads to our births."

I try not to groan, as interesting and romantic of a picture Blane is painting, I'm rather impatient for him to get to the point. As if he senses my thoughts, Blame shoots a large grin at me.

"Daimons are born to parents who love each other deeply, but we are not born in the natural way. For despite our parents' love and immediate attraction, their fate is usually one of tragedy because of their passion is forbidden. Still our parents have stolen moments together and in the first moment, when they both acknowledge the passion and attraction inside them, the power of their love brings us into being."

"Wait," I stop him for clarification; "Are you saying my mom didn't give birth to me?"

"She did not," Blane answers; "Our parents are variations of Romeo and Juliet. Shakespeare's lovers had an impossible, forbidden love because they were born to warring families and they died for that passion that burned between them. Had Romeo and Juliet been real, a daimon would've been born the moment they declare their love for each other on the balcony. However, in reality daimons are not truly born. We simply come into being, as newborn babes, in a place of great significance to our parents. That is why we are called the impossible children."

"If most daimon parents are like Romeo and Juliet does that mean Maggie's parents are dead?" Aaron asks softly.

"More than likely," Blane nods with a sympathizing expression.

"But my parents are alive," I argue.

"What makes you say that?" Blane queries.

"It's something I know to be true, a truth I've always had."

I am more than ready to argue the point with him. But Blane holds up hand to silence me, understanding on his face.

"Then that is your gift," Blane explains; "Daimons are born out of the power of love; we are human, but more that human. As you have discovered for yourself, we have powerful gifts of healing and more gifts you will develops as you get older. Each daimon though is born with a unique gift and from the sounds of it this knowing-ability is yours Little Sun."

"Do you know how to find my parents?" I ask the question that matters most since Blane seems open to questions now.

"As I said, all daimons are born to those whose love is an impossible outcome and whose passion for each other is forbidden. Most of the time, one or both of the lovers die for their passion, long before their daimon child is old enough to crawl. When I came into being, a new daimon was born maybe once a century. In the past millennia, since the Original family began to sire more and more vampires, our numbers have increased at a faster rate, roughly five a century as vampires find love outside their natural lifespans. If your parents are alive, then one of them is more than likely a vampire as their existence is supernaturally impossible and loving them a forbidden passion in many ways."

"Do you have any idea how I can narrow down which vampire is my mom or dad?"

"I would say that you have better idea for how to figure that out," Blane replies thoughtfully; "But both of your parents must be special, Little Sun, for you are unique even among the daimons."


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Go to any earlier chapter and see that for something slightly (not) witty - I own nothing.

Chapter Ten

"What do you mean? And why do you keep calling me that?" I ask.

"Maggie is no more your real name than Blane is mine," Blane smiles as if he knows the frustration I've suffered for years because of my not-name; "They are the monikers we go by to simply please others. You are a compassionate, optimistic young woman, as such 'Little Sun' seems an appropriate nickname until you find your real name."

I find myself nodding in understanding while Aaron suggests "Big Spark" as an alternative under his breath. Blane ignores us both.

"To understand how you are unique among daimons, you must first know our history," he says; "As daimons we're powerful, with a magic similar to witches, but we are not witches and we cannot use their magic. Though one daimon is generally more powerful than a coven of twelve witches, you are more."

I have an idea where this part of the conversation is leading. A glance at Hope shows she does too.

"You Little Sun, have the blood of a witch running through your veins and can use their magic as well as your own powers. If I had to wager, I would say you are more powerful that a coven of thirty, maybe forty witches. However, as you have discovered, there are drawback s to the power we have and this affects your witch powers as well."

I don't know enough about witch magic to understand the difference between the two. I guess Blane expects me to figure this out on my own or perhaps he doesn't fully know the differences himself, only that they're there.

"The fact you have so much power and yet are so young is also unusual among daimons. I am an elder among our kind and have witnessed the development of many daimons, enough to see a pattern. We are born with a natural, accelerated healing ability. Most of us develop the power to heal others, but you are the youngest to have cultivated that ability."

I shift, uncomfortable, because I can tell this conversation is far from over.

"You are manifesting other daimon abilities as well that most others do not discover until they've lived many lives," Blane is really getting into his storyteller role, gesticulating with wide arms; "You will reach your full potential sooner than most and I will have to adjust my lessons accordingly, but that is of little consequence to you."

Hope gives a small snort beside me. I glance at her to see she finds this amusing. Aaron stares at Blane, engrossed in the explanation. Blane settles in his monologue and focuses his eyes on me unnervingly.

"Finally, as a child of a vampire, you will inherit certain abilities of their supernatural heritage. Daimons have never been born of a witch before – they usually use their craft to abscond with their loves to a new life where their passion is not forbidden. With werewolves, daimon-born children have been known to turn into wolves at will. As for children of vampire parentage, each case is different but many of the daimons have developed the speed and strength of their supernatural parent over the years. I image you will have these abilities as well on top of your witch magic."

"Okay, I get your point. I'm a freak even among the daimons," I finish up for him.

So much for fitting in when I found my real family.

"On the contrary, Little Sun, you are not a freak, but the product of a love more powerful than most. Your parents, whoever they are, are very powerful creatures. They overcame many struggles and adversity to love each other and you are the result. You are an inspiration to other daimons and young lovers. Most importantly, you are a daimon, and no matter how different you are, you are one of us."

"She's a part of my pack too," Aaron interrupts; "Leo agreed while you were in the church. If you want, werewolf or not, we'd like to make you a member of our pack, to be your family even when you do find your real one."

"I'd like that very much," I hug him. I'm grateful for the offer, but still certain that with Blane's help I will find my parents.

"Since we're interrupting, could you explain how you know so much about us, yet you don't know who Maggie's parents are?" Hope asks, very suspicious.

"I've been in this town since the day she was born," Blane answers passively; "It is my gift to sense the arrival of other daimons in the world. I came here, to wait until she came into her powers and returned home to find answers. I have watched the mortal and supernatural world as I waited and I learned all of this city's dirty secrets and then some. That is how I know of you young Hope and little Aaron here; because I have watched you grow up. Little Sun was taken from this city and hidden for a long time, which is why I know little of her. I waited, because I knew she would be drawn to her birth city once day. I have watched her since she arrived and I guided her here when the time was right."

"How did you know I would return? Be drawn to New Orleans?" I ask while Hope mulls over his answer.

"We daimons are drawn to things of importance to our parents; places that meant something to both of them, people they cared about, and favorite things of theirs. I, for example, have always loved the color green, just as my father did. When my powers began to manifest, I was pulled to the city of my birth, where my parents had lived. There I was drawn to a great niece of my father, who knew both of my parents; she told me everything she could remember about them. The same is true for you," Blane says, sweeping his hand to take in the tomb and the city around us.

"You were drawn to New Orleans and this tomb in particular because this is the place you were born and this tomb holds great meaning to your parents. You were pulled into the supernatural world, because it is the world your parents live in. Just as you were drawn to your two companions and them to you, because they are important to your parents."

"How is that possible? Aaron's a werewolf, Hope's a witch, and one of my parents is a vampire – they're all different species and everybody's made it clear the different factions don't mix well."

"I cannot explain the how, Little Sun," he says, but I know it's more like will not, based on the flickering of his personal light; "I can only say why the three of you have been drawn together. You have the gift for knowing, so listen to your heart and tell us what you feel when you look at Aaron and Hope."

I look at Aaron first – he looks as overwhelmed as I feel at this development. Yet this is also freeing to me, because for the first time in years as I have most of the answers I have sought. Soon I will have them all. Smiling encouragingly at Aaron, I let my heart speak:

"Brother."

"And Hope?"

"Sister," I proclaim clearly, looking at Hope's similar, but startled face.

"That's not possible, my parents were werewolves, and they're both dead," Aaron disagrees, but I can see he wishes he could believe the way I do.

He wants a family as much as I do.

"My parents are still alive and they could have more kids if they wanted to, but they don't love each other," Hope scoffs; "In fact they're both in love with other people they can never be with."

Then Hope blinks as she realizes what she's just said – that either of her parents could've had a daimon child, could've had me.

"Are you parents' vampires?" I ask. Even though I've been told vampires can't have children, I'm sure there's a complicated explanation somewhere.

"They're hybrids," Hope admits, then shakes her head stubbornly; "But this isn't possible. It isn't possible."

She scoots away in denial. Her expression says she's clicking more things into place. Still she stands up, shaking her head.

"Hope," I stand up and reach for her.

"Stay away from me!" she runs out of the crypt.

"Hope!" I follow her, Aaron on my heels.

Luckily, Hope hasn't gone far. She's pacing between the tombs, running her hand through her hair and muttering. Aaron and I stand a few feet away and watch her. I sling my arm around Aaron and bring him close. He's still shell-shocked, but hopeful and willing to believe we really are family.

"How old are you?" Hope stabs a finger in Aaron's direction.

"Thirteen, but I'll be fourteen in a few months," Aaron replies and Hope whimpers.

"I had a baby brother," she says at last after pacing silently for a few heartbeats; "His name was Oliver and he was taken from us just after he was born. He'd be about your age, but he's a hybrid like me and you're just an untriggered werewolf."

"He might be a hybrid," I say, a puzzle piece falling into place; "He's wearing a spelled necklace that might be muffling him."

"Take it off," Hope marches towards us as Aaron lets out a garbled, "What?"

"I'll hold it for you," I promise him; "I'll keep it safe and give it right back."

Aaron wars with himself, but trusts me in the end. He pulls his wolf necklace off slowly and hands it to me.

As soon as it's off, Hope places her hands on both of Aaron's shoulders. Then she invokes a spell that I don't catch. Aaron howls and pulls away from Hope, he doubles over and I reach for him only for Hope to hold me back.

"What did you do to me?" Aaron demands, his words wet, his hand covering his mouth.

"I forced your vampire side to show itself," Hope replies and I try to move forward as Aaron spits blood, but she stops me; "Those are your baby fangs, you should've lost them years ago with the rest of your baby teeth. Your necklace must have been suppressing all of your vampire nature."

"I don't want to drink blood!" Aaron cries, horrified.

"You don't have to, I don't. Plus now you have all your vampire abilities like me," Hope responds dismissively.

"But my parents are dead."

"You said his dad was Jackson right?" Hope questions Blane.

So caught up in our family revelation, I hadn't noticed the other daimon had followed us. But there he stands, leading casually against the crypt, watching us figure out this puzzle.

"That is correct," Blane nods.

"Then your mom is my mom and she's alive and still searching for you," Hope tells Aaron and I see a chord of love flash around her that I can now find around Aaron.

"My dad said she died. Why would he lie?"

"I don't know," Hope answers, but she's lying.

The glance she gives me tells me to not call her out on it. I send her a look that says she'd better tell me why later.

"Hope, do you know a spell that would allow you to see the way I do?" I ask; a plan forming that I believe will convince they both once and for all.

"There's a spell that allows people to share senses that I could modify, why?"

"I want to show you something. Could you make the spell work for Aaron too?"

"Give me a second," Hope holds up a finger and mentally reworks the spell for several minutes; "Okay, got it. If we all hold hands and you do the spell while I preform another, we'll all see what you see."

We form a triangle and Hope teaches me the spell. It takes me a few tries to get the pronunciation right. Then I have to ignore the distraction that is Hope chanting her own spell, before I finally get my part down. Once I do, the spell works perfectly.

My second sight grows dimmer, but still clear and present. Then I watch as magical light peels off from my eyes. It lazes through the air and covers Hope and Aaron's eyes, like fiery sunglasses – they both gasp.

"What is this?" Hope reaches up to touch the bond between her and her father, a particularly strong bond in her.

"This is how I see the world," I explain; "I see the love that connects people and binds them together. The love of friends and family, of parents and children, and the love of well, lovers; I see it all, all the time. See that line there," I pluck the chord Aaron and Hope share; "It looks different on each of you, but that's your bond with your mom. She loves you both strongly, but since you've never known her Aaron, her love only encompasses you instead of connecting like Hope's does. That mostly white light there, that's your bond with your dad Aaron, it's white because he's gone, but his love for you and you for him is not."  
"What about these chords?" Hope traces two growing, purple and yellow lines between the three of us.  
"Those are our new bonds, as siblings and friends," I tell her and we share a grin.

Seeing the world as I do, they both believe and accept that we are siblings – though it takes a lot more talking. In a cemetery of all places, I've finally found part of my family. Maybe it's only fitting, since according to Hope our family has a large history with the dead.

This is not how I expected this reunion to go. I feel great nonetheless.

I know what I am now. I have a brother and a sister who accept me for what I am and I'm already bonding with them despite the circumstances. This is far better than I'd hoped it would be.

Then of course, the reunion is interrupted.

Blane cries out as he is stabbed from behind by a woman with coppery hair and a sneer. Hope, Aaron, and I drop hands, our spell broken as we turn to confront the threat. Only the woman isn't alone.

Eight other men and women drift out of the shadows, chanting – witches. I don't recognize any of them. Hope collapses to her knees, covering her ears as she starts to scream. I move, intending to channel raw power into a shield around us, but them I'm hit in the head.

I black out for a few seconds, maybe. When I open my eyes again, Aaron is on his knees, searching the ground for his wolf which I have dropped. He's trying to fight the spell that's hurting him also. The witches are moving in on a defenseless Hope.

I see another body closing in on Aaron. I try to warn him, but I am fading too fast. My head wound is not my only injury, I have been stabbed twice as well – I cannot fight my need to heal. The last thing I see before I black out for good is Aaron's wolf lying several feet in front of me as a witch incapacitates my little brother.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I do not own The Originals, The CW and Julie Plec do. Lucky them.

Chapter Eleven

I wake groggy, thirsty, and starving in the cemetery. My brain shudders as it kicks back into high gear and I remember what was happening before I blacked out. There is no sign of Hope, Aaron, or the attacking witches.

I touch my head to confirm my wound is gone. There are two rips in my shirt on my lower back – they're no doubt stained with blood, but the wounds are gone.

I have no idea how long I've been out. An hour at least, possibly two with the injuries I had. I need to find Hope and Aaron, to put a stop to whatever those witches have planned – I have promises to keep.

I'm not entirely sure how I'll keep my promises, but I'm decent at improvising. First though, I pick up Aaron's wolf and tuck the necklace in my pocket. Then I turn to go find Blane. I don't know enough about witchcraft to use that power, but surely he can teach me a few daimon tricks that I can use to rescue my siblings. I'll just have to heal him first, if he hasn't already healed himself.

Only Blane is nowhere in sight. Marcel, however, is standing next to the crypt where I was born and he is not alone.

There are two blonde-haired siblings with him – one vampire; the other a vampire and wolf, a hybrid. I'm getting better at telling the supernatural a part, one tiny hurray. The siblings aren't not shocked by my appearance, so I guess Marcel had warned them ahead of time.

The first sibling has Hope's eyes and I recognize him as her father, but not mine. He's a darker blonde with short, curly hair and is dressed comfortably in a dark shirt, jacket, and jeans. Except for his relationship with Hope, all of his bonds appear as strained, knotted messes in my sight.

The other sibling is a paler blonde and clearly Hope's aunt based on her looks and relationships with Hope's dad and Hope. She's dressed in black and blue and heels. She's also in love with Marcel and he with her, though dark gray mars their bond, telling me they've had rough patches.

These people are my family, though they don't know it. I long to tell them the truth and ask for their help, but there isn't time. It's not as if they're likely to believe me either without Hope here to back me. Besides its plain to me they've come in search of Hope and only Hope.

"Where is Faith?" Hope's dad demands, stalking closer to me; he has a British accent.

There's something old and dangerous about Hope's father and aunt. Her dad exudes a dark, vicious nature intent on frightening me into submission. I stand tall and look him in the eye, my rule about bullies still stands even in the face of the supernatural.

"Witches attacked us, they took Hope and Aaron."

The next thing I know I've been slammed against a crypt. Hope's dad is chocking me, hissing at me:

"Who did you betray my daughter to?"

"No one," I cough out.

I'm seeing black spots as I claw at his grip, but gain no relief. Marcel and the aunt are there, trying to pull him off me, but he is unmovable. He glares at me, not believing me – he will kill me.

I call fire to my hands, real fire, and press against his wrists. I burn him and he drops me – more in surprise than fear or pain. I collapse on the ground, coughing as I gobble up air in my bruised trachea. I begin to heal, but slower than normal as I'm already fairly drained.

"She's just a kid, Klaus," Marcel tries to protect me.

"Kol was right, you are one of those fire demons," Klaus pins me against the tomb, but doesn't choke me; "Played your little game of lost girl to get close to my daughter, then turned her over to the witches. Which coven are you working for? Because I promise you, they're not going to come back for you; they're not going to protect you. And when I am done with you, you will be begging for a fate as kind as death. Who has my daughter?"

"I don't know!" I rasp-shout at him; "I didn't lie about anything. Hope was helping me find my family. I was getting my answers when nine witches showed up. They attacked us. They tried to kill me and took Hope and Aaron. I had nothing to do with it; but if you don't believe me, then get out of my way. I am going to go after them and rescue my family!"

I shove Klaus back and he doesn't fight me. I am so glad he isn't my father. But then Hope's aunt blocks my path.

"I'm Rebekah," she introduces herself; "I'm willing to believe you, but you need to tell me exactly what happened and describe the witches you saw."

"Hope and I were preforming a spell," I start.

"See, she lies!" Klaus pushes Rebekah aside to glare his most threateningly at me.

"I am not! Now shut up and let me finish!" I shout at him and turn to Rebekah who looks as if she'd be amused if Hope weren't in danger.

"Hope and I were preforming a spell," I reiterate with a glare at Klaus; "Then a copper-haired witch attacked Blane, the man who was here who knew what I am. He went down and then the other witches appeared. They started chanting and their spell hurt Hope. She was screaming, covering her ears. It hurt Aaron too, but not me, so some else attacked me from behind and I went down."

I try to describe the other witches I saw, five women and four men in total. Klaus scoffs at my descriptions.

"Can you picture the witches in your mind?" Rebekah asks me and I nod; "Then do that and open your mind to me so that I can see them as well."

I close my eyes and picture the witches just as they came clear of the shadows. Rebekah stands before me, staring intently into my eyes. I feel a pressure in my head and know what I have to do. I imagine a door next to my picture and I turn the knob. On the other side of the door, Rebekah stands, and I let her in to see the witches.

My nose tickles as I feel a slight pressure behind my eyes. Then Rebekah curses and the feeling is gone. I lose the picture as I blink my eyes.

"It was Finn and his witches," Rebekah informs Klaus who also curses.

"How long ago did he take them?" Marcel asks me.

"I had a head wound and lost consciousness, so I'm not really sure, but a healing like that would take at least an hour."

More cursing from Klaus; he stalks about the crypts and sniffs.

"Even if he's cloaked, Davina and her coven should be able to break through it, you know his coven isn't that powerful," Marcel points out.

"Davina would never help me," Klaus argues.

"But she'll do this to protect Hope," Rebekah reminds him.

"Go," Klaus tells Marcel; "Ask her. Rebekah and I will track down Elijah and Hayley. We'll gather the troops and march on his front door. If Finn wants a bloody war, then I'll give him one."

"What can I do?" I ask.

"You've done enough," Klaus snaps.

I'm really getting sick of his attitude. The idea of slapping him is becoming more and more appealing each second that passes. I totally understand why majority of his relationships are so strained if he acts like this all the time.

"This isn't a fight for a child," Rebekah patronizes me, so I glare at her.

"Go back to Leo," Marcel tries to order me; "He'll keep you safe. Once this is settled and Hope is safe, we'll deal with your situation."

Then the three of them super speed away and I glare at where they were.

Between Marcel's order and Kol and Klaus's reactions, I don't think I want to find out how they'll deal with "my situation." Obviously they've encountered daimons in the past and their dealings haven't gone well, or something equally ominous.

I'm not going to let them stop me. I made a promise to Hope that I'd keep her safe; I've failed her so far. Helping to save her is the only way I can make that up. As for Aaron, I have to get his necklace back to him. Mostly though, they are my family, my brother and sister, and that is all the reason I need.

I don't care who Klaus, Rebekah, and Marcel think they are; they aren't in charge of me, family or not. I'm going to find Hope and Aaron on my own and I'll save them alone if I have to. I'll save Blane too, if the witches have him.

My mind made up, I start to leave the cemetery. Then I hear Blane cough.


	12. Chapter 12

Usual disclaimers apply.

Chapter Twelve

I find Blane slumped against the wall of my birth tomb. He's just out of sight from where Klaus confronted me. He's bleeding heavily from six stab wounds to his chest and another to his thigh.

He isn't healing, even though he said all daimons heal. I don't know what's wrong with him, but I can't lose him. I need more time with him, to learn more.

My healing flames burst to life on my palms and I kneel to help him.

"No Little Sun," he stops me with a hand; "We cannot heal each other."

"Then what can I do? Why aren't you healing?"

"I should've sensed the witches' approach, I should've protected you better than that," he speaks wetly; "For failing you, I apologize. I could not stop the witches from taking your brother and sister, but I have protected them. The energy required to do that is all this body has left, there is nothing the left to heal me."

"There has to be something I can do? Can't you take some of my energy?"

"That is witch magic, not daimon," he coughs and there is blood; "I do not have much time, please, listen carefully. My protection will end at dawn; you must find and rescue your siblings before then Little Sun."

"But I don't know how."

"Yes you do Little Sun, you will see. Now bend closer, look into my eyes. I do not know when we will meet again and I must give you the lessons you will need to learn to control you're developing powers."

I lean in as Blane instructs and stare into his brown eyes. He weakly raises one bloodied hand to cup my cheek. I wait, wondering how these lessons are going to work, and then his eyes change.

From soulful brown they turn vibrant red and I am mesmerized. Then his eyes shift to orange, then yellow; green, blue, and indigo follow. After that his eyes turn violet before a blinding flash of white. I reel back and cover my eyes.

When I can see again, Blane's eyes have returned to their natural color. In my head I feel a different kind of pressure, as if Blane is standing inside my thoughts. Similar to when I let Rebekah in, only this there is no tickle and it feels natural, as if Blane has always been there in the back of my thoughts.

*Now you will learn through my memories as you reach each new level of power. Until you understand enough of what it means to be a daimon, to teach yourself, I will be with you.*

I hear Blane's voice in my head, though he isn't speaking out loud. Then I am given a sneak peek at all the powers I have to look forward to. I've already mastered the healing physical wounds and fire. I also have the power to heal emotional wounds; I've just never used it and need training.

I've experimented in reviving the dead – Blane shows me there are limits and high consequences to this ability. An ability I have to wait for is control over the other elements; water, earth, and air. Then I can expect a form of telepathy and one day I'll be able to teleport during the day time at will. Eventually, I will even have the power to manipulate my reality – though to what extent Blane isn't certain of at this stage.

"Wow," I whisper as I open my eyes again.

Blane is out of my head now, the door to my future lessons firmly shut. He's breathing harshly; he doesn't have much longer which cuts my awe short.

"Your ability to see love, that is a gift all daimons share as well," he gasps out; "Use them well."

"I will, I promise," tears spring to my eyes as I grasp his hand in mine.

"Do not cry for me young one. I am a daimon. My body may be mortal, but I am immortal. We are as eternal as the love that made us. As long as we are near the five elements when it is time to take a new form, we will never die."

"I don't understand," I say, wiping away some of my tears.

"Watch, you will," he murmurs.

Then he coughs up more blood. He shudders, pulling his hand from mine. When he stills, his eyes close. He is dead.

I choke back a sob. I've never seen anyone die before – it's horrible.

Then I hiccup in surprise.

The light that was inside Blane is pouring out of his mouth and stab wounds. Bright orange and red light with hints of yellow and blue encase the beams that come from inside him. It's more powerful than natural sunlight, more alive than rainbows and prisms.

The light spreads swiftly, covering Blane's body, consuming him. I reach out and touch a tip of one beam. I feel heat, but it doesn't burn me, it doesn't hurt; all I feel is love.

This light doesn't fade or disappear, it hums and looks liquid. It doesn't smell of cloth or heating flesh, but a summer's day in a field of flowers. It gives off light, but doesn't glow, and warms me from head to toe.

In seconds, the light encases the body and Blane is gone. Around me I feel different elements responding. The heat in the stones is present for fire, earth and air are all around us, while water churns in the sewage system beneath us. From me, I feel a pluck of energy as the power connects to my life force. These new energies are pulled in and cocoon Blane's body, and then they begin to fade. When the last beam of light dwindles away, there is a tiny newborn boy where Blane once was.

This baby has pale dark skin – more white with a touch of brown than golden like Blane was. He has little hair, but what is there is brown and starting to curl. His features are narrower than what Blane's had been, though his bottom lip is rather big. When this boy grows up, he will look nothing like Blane. Except his eyes are still the soulful brown of Blane's and the same light burns inside him.

Baby Blane looks up at me and coos from his position on the cold, stone ground. A little cautiously, I pick him up, supporting his head carefully – I've only held a baby once before.

I haven't a clue what to do now.

"I'll take him little miss," a man's voice breaks my growing terror.

I turn to see an older, dark-skinned man with a crop of curly white hair. He isn't too wrinkled, but I'd place his age somewhere in the sixties. He has on a well-kept but old, brown suit, making him look like a jazz player from another era.

He's carrying a blue bag across one shoulder. In his hands he has a diaper and a blanket at the ready.

"Who are you?"

"Name's Nicholas Shoreman, miss. Once upon a time, I was his grandbaby, now I'm his Keeper."

Keeper. The term unlocks a lesson in my mind.

*Keepers are the humans who care for daimons, the ones trusted with our secret. Sometimes they are family members, sometimes they are strangers we've helped. They protect us, raise us, and love us when we're young. In return we take care of them, heal them, and our presence gifts them with a longer lifespan than other humans.*

My parents will be my Keepers, human or not.

"Here," I hand over Blane.

Having seen Nicholas in my lesson, I know I can trust him.

With more confidence and skill than I have, Nicholas accepts Blane from me. He lays the blanket on the ground deftly with one hand. He drops his bag besides it; then he kneels to dress Blane in his diaper. When that is done, Nicholas pulls out a blue onesie and gets the sleepy baby into that next. The entire time Nicholas talks to Blane like they're old friends, which I guess they are in more ways that I can grasp.

"Will he be okay?" I ask when Nicholas is standing up, baby wrapped securely in blanket.

"Course he will, he's a daimon. You're kind are always reborn when one body dies. Sometimes you'll live to a ripe old age and be reborn in your sleep. Other times you'll die young, for a good cause like Brady here did tonight."

"Brady?"

"He likes to be renamed each time he is reborn, still lookin' for a name that fits right if you ask me. Figure he looks like a Brady this go around," Nicholas tells me with a hearty laugh.

I smile ate him and wipe away the last of my dried up tears.

"'Spect you'll be needin' this," Nicholas hands over his bag.

"What for?" I ask, ready to refuse.

"Brady called me the moment he started dyin'. I got here in time to hear your little show down with Klaus Mikaelson. Apologize 'bout not comin' to your defense, I've had some run-ins with that there hybrid and they've never ended pleasantly for me. I especially couldn't risk it with Brady here 'bout to pass. Still I packed you some chow; help you reenergize to save those in danger."

"Thanks, but no amount of food is going to help me when I haven't the slightest clue where to start looking."

"Brady mentioned that you rescued some werewolf statue for a pack. Said somethin' 'bout you being joined with them in a bond to Luna. Also said if anythin' should happen to him to tell you she's the key. Does that help you?"

It does. Leo's pack had formed a bond with Luna using the blood of one family member to bind for the entire family. Aaron had given his blood, as our brother he'd connected Hope and I to Luna as well. Now I know why I saw a bond between the wolf statue and myself. All I have to do is figure out how to use that bond to locate Hope and Aaron; then I can fulfill my promises and be with my family. I tell Nicholas so.

"Well then, best of luck to you. Oh and if you need a ride, Brady's old bike is parked just outside the main entrance to this place. Return it there when you're done, I'll get it when I can."

"Thank you," I wave until Nicholas and baby Brady are out of sight.

Then I sling the bag over my shoulder and head for the main entrance to Lafayette cemetery. I have a family to save.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I own nothing. I own nothing. Goodnight.

Chapter Thirteen

Nicholas has packed a fair amount of food – three waters, two meaty sandwiches, and six power bars. I eat one ham and cheese sandwich and an energy bar as I walk out of the cemetery. I wash it all down with one water bottle.

I finish my meal standing next to Blane/Brady's old bicycle. Old is not just a euphemism for how long the other daimon has had his bike. The bicycle is a well-maintained, heavy, made-of-metal bike from the forties. It is also bright red.

It's been a while since I've ridden a bicycle. I practice riding in a circle for a few minutes until I find my balance. Then I hold the bike in place beneath me as I conduct a little experiment. I trust my heart as Brady told me to.

I grab the silver bond between Luna and me. Then I gather the small chords connecting me to Aaron and Hope. In my second sight, I twine the three lines of light together, forming a stronger chord, and then I tug on it.

A cool breeze raises the hairs on my neck. I hear a low growl at me side. When I turn to look, I see nothing. But when I face ahead, I see a sleek, white she-wolf in the corner of my eye.

"My family is in danger," I tell her, feeling it is the thing to do; "They are your pups too, can you help me find them?"

The mama wolf, whom I'm certain, is Luna, snarls and races ahead of me. In her path she leaves a glittering, silver trail. I smile, thank her, and follow the path set before me.

Luna's path leads me through the city of New Orleans to its outskirts. I pass through the shopping district not quickly enough; those streets are busy and hard to navigate. Then I enter the suburbs and keep to the sidewalks.

Luna appears to lead me in a more indirect path to my goal. As the direct path would've lead through a working district instead of past sleeping houses I understand why. I don't feel I have the time to waste, but Luna is impossible to reason with.

A mother wolf to her core, Luna makes me take breaks. Hope and Aaron are in danger; I don't want to take breaks even if I need them. The first time Luna reappears directly in my path, forcing me to halt, I try to carry on, but the trail disappears on me after a couple feet.

Luna rematerializes a few minutes later, after I've caught my breath, and brings with her the path. The second time she blocks my way, I use the break to eat two power bars. By the third time it only takes the glimmer of Luna in the corner of my eye to make me stop.

The trail leads me out of the metropolitan area and beyond even the outskirts of New Orleans. I have to ride on a highway, which is nerve-wracking in the dark, but Luna keeps me safe. Then I'm in nature's country – there's trees, fields, and in the distance bayous.

Luna doesn't take me in the direction of any bayou. She leads me along smaller roads dotted with civilization. After I pass the first three-story mansion with acres of private woods, I realize my destination is possibly a former plantation.

When the trail merges off the road and onto a gravel driveway, I say goodbye to Brady's bike. I lean the bicycle against a tree and take a few unsteady steps. My calves are burning and my backside is sore. As the pain is from physical excursion there is only so much I can heal.

I keep walking until my legs remember how and the pain isn't so bad. Then I look down the driveway. It ends at a large plantation house and Luna's trail leads me straight there. I dodge from tree to tree in a meager, stealthy approach. Once I'm a good sprint from the house, I pause to finish off my power bars, sandwich, and water. Luna keeps me company.

The plantation house is two story mansion and cream white. It has Greek columns stretching to its roof and large porches on both levels, at least on the front. Twin staircases wrap around to the top porch and frame the ground level, massive front door. I count twelve windows; half of them have light on behind their gauzy curtains. It was once a beautiful home, now neglect has allowed vines and cracks to mar its good looks – the malicious spirit is exudes doesn't help either.

I close my eyes and use the sense-spell to get a feel for the enemy. In the mansion, Hope and Aaron still feel the same, though Aaron is no longer muffled, and they're being kept together. There are twenty witches spread throughout the mansion. Eight of them are clustered near my siblings. All the witches feel like thunderstorms beating against my skin.

I can sense two more witches out on the property. I don't think they're with the kidnappers as they're near a group of werewolves, hybrids, and what I assume are vampires. If I'm right about the vampires, then most of them feel like a pile of deep snow, except two who are more like ice.

Traversing the rest of the plantation is close to a dozen werewolves. Crisscrossing with them along their paths is an equal number of vampires. They're moving in an organized pattern, like a patrol grid. This must be Klaus's army, I conclude. For all that talk of the factions not getting along, these people seem willing to set aside their differences for Hope which is an interesting nugget I tuck away.

Klaus's army doesn't concern me, so long as I don't have to deal with Hope's father. The number of the witches in the mansion will probably be a problem. However getting in is the first challenge.

A powerful spell or curse is layered on the plantation house. I have a feeling it's what's keeping Klaus and his army out – he didn't strike me as the patient sort. While I'm fairly certain I can burn my way through the magic, that's more of a backup plan.

The surprise attack at the cemetery taught me an important lesson. I may have a lot of power, but I haven't a clue how to fight against actual people. I need a plan to sneak in, break Hope and Aaron out, and then distract the witches as we escape. Unfortunately, I don't have much time as dawn is less than an hour away.

"Don't suppose you can find me a way in?" I ask Luna since she's still sitting in the corner of my vision.

She yelps at me and then lopes away, but no trail appears. I wait, but then shuffle over to another tree as I magically-see someone in Klaus's army patrolling closer to my position. This puts me in a direct line of vision to where Klaus is stationed with the two witches and other supernaturals. His name finally clicks and I recall that he's the Original hybrid – my family is getting more complicated by the minute.

I cannot actually make out people from my position, which is for the best. I can however see the light of their relationship bonds. My breath catches as I spot the smoldering light that belongs to my parents.

They're so close. But as Blane/Brady explained, they've no idea I exist. I long to go to them, to tell them who I am, but I don't have time. My brother and sister need me – I don't have time to convince my parents I'm their daughter. Heart-clenching, I turn to face the mansion where the family that already knows about me awaits.

Luna returns a few moments later. A new silvery trail appears for me to follow. This time Luna doesn't hide in the corner of my eye, she appears clearly before me. Her actions only increase the urgency with which I act.

I step around the tree to follow the path. Then I hear a low growl. I whirl around to find a brown-haired man with wisps of a beard stalking towards me. His eyes are amber with streaks of yellow. I don't need his impressive canines to know that he's a werewolf. Luna leaps between us, growling and unseen.

"Aiden, babe, don't," it's the vampire, Josh, zipping up beside the werewolf.

Aiden relaxes, his eyes and teeth shift back to their human versions. Luna gives a look that clearly says, _what are you waiting for, go_. I start inching along the trail; I turn to follow it, only for Josh to block my path.

"It's Maggie right? What do you think you're doing here?" he asks me as I sense Aiden boxing me in from behind.

"I came to rescue Aaron and Hope and I'm kind of on a tight schedule, so please, get out my way."

"How did you find this place?" Aiden growls.

He's a werewolf so he probably knows about Luna. He might even believe me if I tell him about her trail. But then, I'm not a werewolf so he might not. Either way, I don't want to betray Leo's pack and I don't have time for this.

"A friend helped me," I tell them; "He also put a protective spell around Hope and Aaron that will wear off at dawn. Which is why I need to get going."

"I think you should talk with Klaus first," Josh says reaching for me.

"No!" I cry.

Klaus won't listen. He doesn't trust me. I can't waste time trying to reason with him. So I act on instinct.

I slap my hands to Josh's chest, one above his heart. My hands burst into flames, healing fire this time. I've revived dead things before and Blane's teachings showed me how to do it best. Now I know so long as there's a little life left in what I'm reviving, I can bring it back to life.

There is still life left in Josh. As my flames churn through him, he collapses to his knees. His eyes turn black, dark veins appearing around them. His fangs appear for a second, but then start to recede.

I feel the power drain immediately. Reviving him will take all I have and I can't waste a drop. I pull away just as Aiden tosses me off Josh. I hit a tree, but recover quickly. Aiden is distracted, trying to find a way to help Josh who is still gasping.

"Josh, talk to me. What do you need?"

I take advantage of the situation. I run. Luna guides me through the trees to the base of several bushes. Her silvery trail disappears just before the plants. I look at Luna quizzically, she paws the ground. I kneel to dig, my fingers finding the edges of a trap door under the grass. Then I am whooshed away.


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: The usual words apply.

Chapter Fourteen

I'm deposited onto my feet in the middle of some trees. Everything is spinning after the sudden change in speeds. I nearly crumple, but my vampire captor holds me up until I'm steady. I turn to glare at him once my vision clears.

I inhale sharply. He has dark brown hair, darker than mine, and brown eyes, just like mine. He's dressed in an immaculate dark blue suit with a pinstriped blue tie. I know him at once – my father.

"What the heck?" a woman says.

I turn again and come face to face with my mother. If Hope is my almost-twin, then I am an exact replica of our mother. Only my eyes and paler skin set us apart.

I stumble away from both of them, eyes wide. My heart is pounding and I'm speechless. According to what I've been told, they can both hear my heartbeat, that's not good. However my speechlessness is for the best.

I've been waiting for this moment for so long. There are so many questions I have and so much I want to tell them about me. But I can't be their daughter right now, I can't tell them who I am – Aaron and Hope come first.

I bump into someone else in my subconscious attempt to flee.

"Well, well, well what do we have here?" Klaus drawls behind me; "If it isn't the little witch who had nothing to do with my daughter's abduction."

I hear the accusation in his tone and pivot to glare at him.

"I'm not helping those other witches, I came to help," I tell him, hotly, stepping away.

"You're just a child Maggie," Marcel speaks up; "You're supposed to be with Leo."

"You're not the boss of me," I retort.

Now that my attention has been drawn away from my parents, I get a good look at the others gathered here. Besides Klaus, Marcel, and my parents, there is Davina, Kol, and Rebekah.

Klaus and Kol are wary of me. Davina looks worried. Marcel is both concerned and pissed while Rebekah is plotting something and amused. I don't look to see what my parents are thinking; I can't afford to get distracted.

"You know this girl Marcellus," my father asks with a British accent like Klaus and Rebekah's.

"This is Maggie, she's a new witch in town, came looking for lost family. The New Moon pack found her, brought her to me to take to Davina," Marcel explains; "Hope met her at the sanatorium early this morning, she's the one that broke the Luna statue free."

Luna growled at him for his lack of respect.

"Or so she claims," Klaus interjects and I resist growling at him; "Kol found out she's one of those fire demons and then she just so happens to take Hope to the cemetery where Finn is waiting to snatch her. Look at the face she manipulates us into seeing. Elijah, this is just an elaborate trick on Finn's part meant to throw us for a loop while he has Hope."

"Stop calling me a fire demon, I'm a daimon," I bark at Klaus and Davina gasps, everyone else looks confused; "I'm not manipulating anything and I'm not working with this Finn-guy either. Those witches took Hope and my little brother; I came here to get them back."

"I thought you didn't have any family?" Klaus questions triumphantly.

"We'd just figured out we're half siblings when the witches attacked," I answer, ruining his victory.

"That's possible," Marcel supports me; "Aaron's a member of the New Moon pack. Since it's made up of mostly kids, we only require Leo to give us their first names and ages. Most of them are orphans of displaced or destroyed packs."

"That still doesn't mean she isn't lying and you've already told me she can't be compelled into telling the truth," Klaus reiterates.

There's no getting through to Klaus and Marcel doesn't want me here to begin with. I turn to Rebekah; she'd been reasonable back at the cemetery.

"I told you, I met a man named Blane and that he was telling me what I am," I remind her; "He told me that he was able to put a protective ward on Hope and Aaron before they witches took them, but it will only last until dawn. Please, take me back to the house so that I can get in and get them out."

"Don't listen to her, she nearly killed Josh," Aiden snarls.

"No I didn't," I argue as Aiden and a perfectly fine Josh join the group; "I was just trying to distract you long enough to get away."

"She's right," Josh agrees with me, surprising everybody but Davina; "Whatever she did, it had me feeling human again, at least for a few minutes."

"She's a daimon," Davina walks towards me; "The ancestors have met your kind before. They don't know a lot about your species, but they do know your powerful healers, not killers. She's right," now Davina is facing everybody else; "She's the best chance we have at getting Hope **and** Aaron out of Finn's hands. That protection spell was designed to keep vampires, werewolves, and witches out. It won't be able to stop a daimon. She can get in and break the spell for us."

I'm not so sure of that, but I'm willing to pretend – just so long as it gets them to let me go.

"No," Klaus and Marcel disagree for different reasons.

"I say we let her try," my mom argues; "Hope and the boy don't have much time."

Rebekah sides with Davina and my mom. Kol sides with Klaus, a prospect that disagrees with both of them apparently. Aiden and Josh stay out of the vote as they aren't in charge. Then Marcel asks my dad for his opinion.

I'm not listening to the adults anymore. Luna is before me, dancing between the grownups. On all of them she singles out a similar chord – their love for Hope. She pulls a piece of that chord out on all of them and draws it to me. Then she loops her own silvery power in and under those strands. The result is a multicolored, mostly silver, net lying at my feet.

Then Luna sits above her work and looks expectantly at me. I glance around at the adults, not my parents though, and can see I'm getting nowhere with them. I look down at Luna's net again, trying to decipher what she needs from me. Her silvery tethers begin to fade and I think she needs power; Luna nods.

I kneel and reach for the net. I touch three of the rippling love strands, but they're like air on my hand. Luna's power is more tangible, like finely spun glass that is thin and cool to the touch. A lesson from Blane shows me how to feed it some of my power and the net glows brighter.

Klaus curses loudly at me, my mom yells, and everyone else's exclamations of dismay are drowned out by the two of them. I look up to see all the adults on their knees, Luna's power tethering them to the ground. They're struggling, unable to break free, but there are other supernaturals they can call on to stop me.

"I'm sorry," I glance guiltily at my parents.

My mom is busy trying to free herself. My dad looks at me with what I think is an understanding expression. Luna snaps at my heels to get me moving.

"Where'd the bloody wolf come from?" I hear Kol gripe as I follow Luna's new trail for me.

Luna leads me back to the bushes. No vampires or werewolves get in my way, which I take as a good sign. I find the trapdoor easily again; it opens with barely any fuss.

I drop into a musty tunnel. It's dark and cramped; a good thing I'm not claustrophobic. The smell of earth is strong; the dirt is moist and crumbles against my searching finger tips. I call in a little fire on my palm and hurry forward. Luna guides me until the end.

I can feel it when I reach the spell keeping the others out. The tunnel becomes warm and the air scratches at my throat as I breathe. The barrier doesn't stop me, doesn't hurt me, though I feel uncomfortable in my skin for a few seconds. Then I'm through and it's a small distance to the end of the tunnel.

There's only dirt ahead of me and on either side. I reach up and through a film of dirt and roots to find the door. I push up and hear it creak, but the door doesn't budge. I extinguish my light so that I can push up with both hands, putting my back and legs into it. The door fights me, but is forced open with a not-soft-enough, thump.

I debate whether it's smarter to hide in the tunnel or confront any witches that heard the door head on. My debate lasts less than a second as Luna peers down at me from the floor above. She isn't worried, so I pull myself out of the tunnel. As soon as I'm up my wolf companion gives me a lick of warm air for good luck and disappears for good.

I find myself in a dusty cellar. There are two dull light bulbs that provide just enough visible light to find the stairs while keeping most of the cellar in shadows. I start for the stairs immediately, ready to scare any witches that come investigating with my fire. This close to Aaron and Hope, our new bonds are strong enough to lead me straight to them.

As I step onto the first step, there is a slashing pain from my right shoulder to the middle of my back. I fall forward, biting back a scream, and bang my shins on the steps. Panting, I twist around to face my attacker.

"Now what do we have here?" a pencil-thin black man with gelled up hair steps out of the shadows.

A bloody dagger is in his hands. I feel very woozy and my blood turns molten as I try to heal; I've never felt this way before.

"Poison?" I gasp as the possibility occurs to my slowing mind.

The man smiles cruelly.

Then I faint, again.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: The Originals, Firefly, and Harry Potter, what do all these things have in common? That's right, I don't own the rights to them.

Chapter Fifteen

"Wake up Maggie, wake up," Hope orders, slapping my face.

I blindly reach for her hands and stop her before my face is bruised. When I finally muster up enough energy to open my eyes, I glare at her. Hope looms unapologetically over me.

"You're awake," she announces; "Now it's time to sit up."

I try to do as she suggests on my own, but find I'm still too weak. Hope plucks me off the floor and leans me against her side. Aaron snuggles up against my other side. He smiles bravely at me, but his eyes are terrified.

"How do you feel?" Hope asks and I realize she's whispering.

"Better," I whisper back and it's true.

My blood has returned to its normal burning heat as it heals me. I figure most of the poison has been flushed from my system by now. In a dozen or so more heartbeats I'll be completely healed; then I'll have more energy to move.

"Good, you're really freaking out Finn and his witches," she tells me with some pride.

I look away from my sister to take stalk of our situation. We're stuck in the middle of a cleared out parlor. The floor is wooden, the walls are white. I see two windows, looking out on the trees and letting in dawn's early light. Aaron, Hope, and I are trapped in a white circle sprinkled with red, brown, and green herbs. There's not another witch in sight.

"Why?" I ask; focusing on the conversation as my mind tries to wander.

"Apparently Finn cut you with a poison of his own special blend. It should've killed you, quite painfully, in a matter of minutes. But you blacked out instead and kept on breathing," Hope discloses rather amused.

"They wanted to kill you," Aaron hugs me tight at the thought; "Hope convinced them you were a witch that had some new sort of antidote for any poison. Finn wanted to know your secrets so he had you tossed in with us."

"Then your back started healing and they realized you weren't just a witch and they all freaked out, even Finn," Hope grins devilishly at me.

"They couldn't get you out of the circle without freeing us. Hope said she'd kill anyone who tried to enter the circle to hurt you and they believed her. So they went elsewhere to find a way to kill you," Aaron sums up.

"I'm going to be fine, they can't kill me," I comfort Aaron as he seems to be hung up on that part.

He doesn't look as if he believes me.

"Trust me, it's a daimon thing," I whisper very softly in his ear, though from Hope's interested eyebrow quirk I know she hears me clearly.

Aaron nods, willing to believe now.

"Here," I pull his necklace out of my pocket, thankful the witches hadn't take it; "One promise kept."

"You found it!" Aaron hugs me again; "Thank you!"

He slips the wolf into his pocket. I guess he no longer wants his vampire side suppressed.

"I don't like breaking my promises," I tell him; "At least yours I can keep. Yours," I look at Hope, "I have to modify."

"Fine," she replies and then shushes me.

Hope smiles smugly at one of the parlor doors. A second later a blonde-haired, male witch pokes his head in. He sees me and curses. Even as he disappears, Hope's smirk grows.

"You're awful chipper for being held captive by witches who want to kill you," I comment.

"You've thrown Finn into a tizzy and you scare him. I'm basking in the joy for the whole family," Hope says loudly; "He hasn't been this upset since he learned I didn't die as a baby."

"Why does that matter? We're still stuck," Aaron grumbles and I agree.

"Because that wanker is our lousy uncle," Hope points to just her and me; "And he's been trying to kill me ever since I was little."

"What? How is he our uncle? And why does he want you dead?"

"Trust me, he's our uncle, there's body swapping involved, long story. As for killing me, he's trying to finish a mission our grandmother started long before I was even born," Hope snarls at the mention of our grandmother.

"Let me guess, another long story," I speculate and Hope nods.

"Don't worry, you'll get to hear all about it soon enough. My dad loves to talk about our family's sordid history of backstabbing and trying to kill one and other," having met Klaus I totally believe her; "You can rest easier knowing our crazy, evil grandmother is dead and our even more evil grandfather is cursed to never set foot in the this city so long as I live thanks to Davina."

"Why is our grandfather the worse of two evils?"

"To put it shortly, he wants to kill our entire family," Hope shrugs; "Don't ask my dad about him though; he has a very long tirade. First things first, we need to blow this joint. Any ideas?"

As I open my mouth to speak, Aaron and Hope both cover it with their free hands. They share a grin at my expense; then remove their hands as I hear floorboards squeak.

"Hello child," it's the pencil man who cut me; "My name is Finn Mikaelson. I must apologize for my earlier actions. I had believed you to be one of my siblings or their allies, come to interrupt an important ceremony I am trying to perform. I realize now how erroneous my actions were. If you would like to step outside the circle, my companions and I will see to it that you are well-cared for and I will be happy to explain my intentions and goals for New Orleans."

"Do you expect me to believe that line of bull?" I'm incredulous; "The moment I step outside of this circle you'll try and kill me. Then you'll do the same to Hope and Aaron in whatever evil ceremony it is that you have planned."

"Fine, you've made your choice," Finn sneers at me; "There's no getting through the lies Klaus and Elijah spin. But know this foolish girl, I will be victorious in the end and you've sealed your fate, to die like the rest who follow those I once called brothers."

"You could've mentioned he's a drama queen," I glower at Hope.

"Where's the fun in that?" she quips.

Finn snarls at us. Then he pulls out a black talisman and mutters a harsh spell. Aaron flinches, but Hope cries out and tries to curl up. I hold onto both of them and imagine a protective ball of power surrounding us inside the circle. Hope goes limp beside me, breathing heavily.

Finn tries his spell twice more to no avail. My protective bubble holds and he gives up with a growl. The only problem is I'm sweating by the end, barely able to hold myself up, and Finn can see that I'm weakening.

"You can't protect them forever. I have all the time in the world, but you do not," he taunts, then swoops out of the room.

"Next time, I'll call Luna to protect us," Aaron rubs my back supportively as I pant.

"We need to find the spell keeping everyone else out," I manage to get out between gasps; "They'll have a plan ready, all I have to do is break the spell."

"The witches maintaining that spell are in the other room," Hope nods towards the door Finn disappeared behind; "But there's no way you can get out of this circle, past all those witches, and destroy that spell – you can't even walk."

"Can you feed me some of your power?" I ask.

Hope grabs my hands and feeds me her power without a second thought. Her energy is much like her, wild and unpredictable, a fast flowing current of relentless water. I feel a little water-logged afterwards, but refreshed.

I push out with one hand towards the barrier of the circle. I feel the spell fighting me immediately. A couple seconds in and I know the drain will be too much, I pull back.

"Think," I turn to Hope; "How would they create that defensive spell? What could I possibly do to destroy it from here?"

"That's impossible," she guaffs and I give her a look; "Right. The spell itself, I doubt you could break in your current condition. If you could take out the witches powering it, that would bring it down. There are at least three of them preforming spell together though. They'll be using a circle set up somewhat like this one," she gestures to our prison, "to join their powers together which gives them the strength of three in one. Even if you can take them out, there are other witches in the house who can simply take over for them."

"What if I take out the circle connecting them?" I ask, seeing a possibility.

"That would disrupt the spell, but how are you going to do that from here? You'd need a countering agent like eye of newt or witch's blood."

"Would completely obliterating the circle work?"

"It would, but again, how?"

"Give me your hand and I'll show you," I say, plan solidified.

The floor in the next room was made of wood; I could see it through the doorway. Even after all these years, there was still a spark of life in these former trees. Plants are far more resilient than human bodies this way, I hear Blane in my head, they hold on to the memory of life longer, but are still tricky to revive.

Hope gives me her hand and I combine our powers together. Then I reach deep inside myself with Blane's help. I find the home for my uncontrollable flames in my chest and I set off the heat to its tender kindling. The flames come and this time, I control them.

Hope provides me with the power I need to channel that life-giving fire into the floor. I spread the energy wide in the room I am in and into the room where the spell is being performed, but nowhere else in the house. Then I let the flames soak in deep.

Wood creaks and groans, I feel it coming to life again, my eyes closed. There is cursing and screaming, the floor buckles beneath me. Hope's hand starts to slip from mine, but I can't lose her, I squeeze on tight. I feel Aaron's warm fingers cup our hands together.

There is a sharp pain and Aaron howls. I hear Luna pick up his cry and the pain goes away. I contain the combined power to the floors alone, even though the power fights me, my will wins. Then I encourage the wood planks to remember what they once were and grow again.

I am in the new roots, digging deep, seeking soil and moisture that is easily found in this rich earth. I'm part of the budding leavings, now sprouting, pushing ever upwards and fanning out in search of daylight. I am trees and boundless energy. I am a girl, a boy, and a girl again. I am life. I am silence.


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I do not own the Originals, but I certainly had fun playing in their world for a little while.

Chapter Sixteen

I wake in a completely unfamiliar, but very comfortable, full-sized bed. I've been sleeping between a comforter that is dark amethyst and dirt-streaked white sheets. The walls are an aged white-yellow and are bathed in fresh daylight. I'm sorely tempted to roll away from the window that's providing the light and sleep some more.

My curiosity – and very grumbly stomach – convinces me to wake up. I'm still in my green shirt and black jeans, my boots and shrug are missing. Considering the condition of my clothes – stained and ripped beyond repair – I think it for the best that I don't know what has become of my favorite shoes.

The sweet smell of pineapple tantalizes my nose, I hone in on the scent. Freshly sliced pineapple, a bowl of oatmeal with a glass of milk, and buttered, though cool, toast sits on the nightstand closest to me. I slide out of the sheets and inhale my way through the breakfast, saving the pineapple for last. The worst of my hunger pains are quieted and I'm more energized afterwards, but I still have a ways to go before I'm back to full power.

Softly, I snoop about the room I find myself in. The vanity, bed, nightstands, and dressers are all made of a golden wood and old, enduring craftsmanship. Art gallery-worthy paintings adorn two walls, clashing with the boy band posters and spells pages tacked onto the other walls. Two old and one new rug cover most of the floor while a plush, purple bean bag lazes in the far corner.

"Hey! You're up," Hope startles me.

She's poking her head out of the door I'd thought led to the hall. The steam coming from the room and the fact Hope's toweling her hair corrects my speculation. If she's in the bathroom then the door across the room from her bed leads to the hall.

"I see you found your breakfast. Aaron said you'd probably be ravenous when you woke. Did you like the pineapple? It's my favorite," Hope chatters on.

"The pineapple was great, best I've had in a long time. It's one of my favorites too," Hope smiles at me as I answer, another thing we share; "Where are we? Where's Aaron? And what happened? Last I remember I was reviving the floor into trees again."

Hope finishes with the towel and tosses it back into her bathroom. She steps out in a spaghetti-strap, light gray tank top with washed out jeans. She perches on the bottom of her bed before answering me:

"We're home, in the home our family built a long time ago. Aaron's fine," Hope cocks her head to listen to a distance noise; "He's in the kitchen trying to eat everything in the pantry. Aunt Bekah and Mom are with him. Marcel is out, explaining everything to Cami. Uncle Kol and Davina went for drinks, to bemoan how further complicated our family has become. And my dad is complaining to your dad about stealing his thunder. Miracle baby," Hope points to herself; "Impossible child," she points at me.

Aaron is safe, that's what I take away from her summary. I'm not sure what to make of the rest of it.

"As for what happened?" Hope continues to chatter away as she searches her drawer for a shirt; "Your plan succeeded. The witches' spell was completely obliterated in the changes and Finn's plantation hideaway has now been taken over by the trees. They took over the cellar with their roots, tore through half of the second level as they branched out, and several of them broke support beams that sent the rest of the house crashing," she holds up a pink blouse and a ratty purple shirt in debate;

"You and I collapsed, just as the house went down. Lucky for us, Aaron had already called in Luna. She protected us from the worst of the damage, though we all were caked in dirt and dust because of the growing trees. Most of the witches, Finn included, escaped while everyone searched for us," Hope decides on the holey purple shirt and slips it on;

"The bloody cowards are in the wind for the moment. The next time they pull their tails out from between their legs and come after us, my dad'll make sure they pay," this she says with a vicious grin similar to the one I've seen on Klaus; "Once they found us, they brought us home. I woke up hours ago. Mom started getting antsy when you didn't wake soon after. Your dad calmed her down, though we were all walking on eggshells until you shifted into a light sleep."

"When you say 'my dad'," I point at myself to be clear.

"I'm talking about my uncle Elijah," Hope hops back on her bed; "He's my dad's older brother. My dad is Klaus, though I bet you already figured that out."

I nod absentmindedly as I try to wrap my head around this development. I plop onto the bed next to Hope.

"Once I knew Aaron was Oliver, I knew we all shared the same mom. Then I knew exactly who your dad was. Now you get why Davina and Uncle Kol are drinking so early in the morning. I even bet my dad that Marcel and Cami will join them once Cami's been filled in."

"Wait, are you saying everybody knows?" my heart starts pounding with nerves again, I drop my voice for my next question, for all the good it does me; "That my parents know?"

"Hey, it's okay," Hope puts a comforting hand on my shoulder; "Everybody's happy to have you in the family. Well maybe not my dad; and Uncle Kol needs some time to come around what with you being a daimon and all. But everyone else is practically ecstatic and you brought Aaron home."

"But how?" I don't complete the question, but Hope understands.

"Aaron freaked after we blacked out. When Mom and Aunt Bekah found us, he blurted everything out. He told it in jumbled up pieces though, so everyone was confused. I got the third-degree when I woke up, but I was able to paint them a more coherent picture. Aaron being Ollie was easy enough for them to believe. Apparently he looks a lot like his dad. Even hearing about daimons from me, my dad still though you were a trick of Finn's until he saw the birthmark."

"What does my birthmark have to do with this?"

Almost automatically I touch the back of my right shoulder where the crescent mark lies. I'm slightly dismayed to feel the split ends of my shirt and a lot of skin.

"Mom comes from an old pack of wolves, the Crescents. Everyone in the pack is born with a crescent birthmark, but each bloodline is unique. Mom is the last member of her bloodline, only her children can inherit the same birthmark," Hope turns and pulls her shirt to show me her birthmark; it is the same as mine; "The mark is pack magic, so there is no way it can be faked. I should've thought to check you and Aaron back in the cemetery. It probably would've saved us from being caught by Finn."

"How strange," I murmur, reaching out to touch Hope's birthmark.

"What is?"

"I was worried about how I'd convince my parents of who I am after Blane told me the truth. I was half afraid they wouldn't believe me no matter what I said. Now you're telling me all it would've taken was this birthmark I've had my entire life that I don't even like."

"The birthmark was just the final piece. You would've had to spend several hours rehashing what a daimon is and your whole life's story to convince them of the truth if I hadn't saved you from it. I was lucky they even let me eat while they interrogated me. I had to explain things for like five hours before they let me scrub off all that tree muck. So you're welcome," Hope complains with a wounded air.

"Thank you?"

"If you want to thank me, go get cleaned up. You're more a mess than I was and I'd like to start cleaning my room pronto – you can help," Hope pulls me over to her vanity to help make her case.

I really wish she didn't feel the need to show me how dirty I've become. There are more twigs, leaves, and dirt on my head than hair. My face is smeared in mud and dried blood, making me look like a bad, army-commando movie extra. My clothes look even worse upon closer inspection, enough that I nearly die of shock at how swamp monster I appear.

Hope laughs at my aghast expression.

"I can see I've made my point," she pushes my numb body towards her bathroom; "You'll find any supplies you need in the bathroom. When you're clean, rummage through my drawers for anything that fits, we're close enough in size there should be some things. I'll leave new undergarments for you on the bed."

Then she shuts the bathroom door behind me. Her bathroom is nice, older is design, but fitted with new appliances. The showerhead works great and in utter bliss I let the hot water and lots of soap pound inches of dirt away. Her taste is shampoo is bland; everything is scentless, whereas I prefer fruit smells. Her towels are nice and fluffy.

Wrapped in a pale blue, extra wide towel, I step back into Hope's room nearly half an hour later. There's no sign of my sister and her bed has been stripped to the mattress. I find the undergarments on the bed as promised and then I politely search her drawers.

Hope has too many inches on me for me to comfortably fit in any of her jeans. I do find a flowing black silk skirt that looks promising. On Hope it probably reaches mid-thigh, on me it nearly touches my knees. With shirts, I might have had better luck. Unfortunately the last week of healings, magic, and bad dieting has ate away at my body fat. Every shirt I try on is loose. Finally I decide to wear Hope's sole blood red, button up, blouse – it fits my mood.

I wait maybe a minute, more than likely less, to see if Hope returns. Then my curiosity gets the best of me and I leave to explore. The hall, much like Hope's room, is a blending of the old with the new. There are lightbulbs and wall-mounted candleholders. Paintings are spaced evenly along the walls. Frames on the walls and on side tables hold pictures from all eras: hand-painted portraits to rudimentary black-and-white photos to modern full-colored snap shots. The pictures are glimpses of my family from centuries past.

I restrain myself from testing the locks on shut doors and only peek in on open rooms. The first two I encounter are only bedrooms. Except for revealing an older taste in décor, the rooms aren't at all interesting. I see a large case filled with book before I enter the next room, hands behind my back. The room is a study, not a library as I'd thought, and in it I find my dad.

He's in a dark gray suit today with a dark red tie. The moment I enter, he stands up, placing his book on the table next to him. His eyes assess me from bare feet to damp hair as he offers me a pleasant smile.

"Hi," I squeak out nervously as I stare back at him.

Inside my heart is beating to the tune of "He knows, he knows, he knows." A thought that never left me anxious when I imaged this meeting before, but the reality is so much more important than idle dreams. I want my first impression, first real impression, to be a good one. Too bad I'm already off to a not-good start.

"Good morning Maggie," he says soothingly, not moving a hairsbreadth as if I'm an easily frightened deer; "How are you feeling?"

"I'm good," I take a couple steps into the room, closer to him, this is so butterflies-are-storming in my stomach, exciting; "Nervous. Still hungry, but that's normal after I heal."

"I am certain we can rescue some food from your brother before he demolishes the kitchen," he responds thoughtfully.

I chuckle and smile at him, a little of my nerves go away. I start to relax and my heartbeat returns to normal as we watch each other. I inch a couple steps closer to him.

"This wasn't exactly how I thought this moment would go," I want to talk to him so bad and this is the only thing on my mind; "I've spent years imagining our reunion, there were usually a lot of hugs and tears. I even had a speech worked out. In every variation though, I was the lost daughter coming home. Only now I know that was never true. This is our first meeting, our first _proper_ meeting," I correct myself with a sardonic smile; "You're probably still trying to wrap your head around my very existence and I don't know what to say anymore."

"I have lived a long time Maggie, I came to terms with the fact I would never have a child of my flesh and blood when I was still new to this life. Now here you stand," we're less than a foot apart now, he reaches out and tucks a loose lock of my hair behind my ear; "My daughter."

There is awe in his voice and adoration; it sends happy shivers down my spine.

"I do not need to know you are a daimon or see your birthmark," he continues in that calm voice of his; "I knew you were mine the moment I laid eyes on you and so did your mother. You were our lost daughter and we are beyond happy you have come home."

Finally I let myself see all the emotions that are plain as day on his face. The awe and adoration are still there, but they are hard to see in his blinding love for me. That bond I have seen for years on other girls and yearned for, now finally belongs to me.

Effortlessly I take the final step in and crush him in a hug. He pulls me in tight, not a second of hesitation. I rest my head against his shoulder and he presses a gentle kiss to my forehead.

"Hi Dad," I whisper and he holds me closer.

It's a perfect moment.

When he loosens his grip, I fear the moment is ending; I'm not ready for it to. I feel one of his arms reach out and I start to turn.

"Hayley, would you like to me our daughter?" Dad asks softly.

My mom stands in the doorway watching us. There are unshed tears in her eyes. When Dad beckons her, she walks in, her eyes never leaving mine.

She holds onto Dad's outstretched hand with her left, her right hand cups the side of my face. She's blinding in her love as well. My heart is bursting with the sight of the two bonds I've longed for finally being completed with a stronger love than any I pictured.

"Hullo Mom."

Then we're all hugging and I'm squeezed in the middle. I don't mind a second of it. I expected denial, confusion, and even fear. All I'm getting is love and acceptance.

 **This** moment is far better than any I ever dreamed.

"Well, look here, if it isn't the happy little family reunited," Klaus interrupts our moment.

"Nik, be nice," Rebekah smacks Klaus in the arm as she invites herself into the study; "It isn't every day we get a new niece and nephew."

My parents and I disentangle from our hug just in time for my aunt to sweep me into another one. My parents keeping holding hands, giving us a little room, but they don't step too far away. Grumbling, Klaus is pushed into the study by Hope. Aaron follows after them, munching on a cookie.

"I'm not entirely convinced she isn't a trick of Finn's" Klaus announces, staring at me with scorn.

"Yes you are," I nonverbally forgive him for his defensive attitude; "You wouldn't care so much about me if you didn't."

This close, with Hope leaning against him, I see my uncle in a new light. He loves all of his family deeply, but he's scared of getting hurt, of being rejected. That's why he pushes people away and makes it so difficult for others to love him.

We're family now and I don't give up on family – I wouldn't be here if I did. Hope is his weakness, she's the one he'll never push away and she wants him to feel that way about everyone else. Between Hope and me, I think we can make that happen – it may take a while, but we've got the time. Until then, I'll have to get used to his attitude.

"No use denying it Dad," Hope grins wickedly at Klaus; "Little Sun sees all forms of love that connect people."

"I can deny it all I want, if she's your only proof," Klaus retorts with less bite than usual.

"Let it go Klaus," Mom says as she wraps one arm around me and the other around Aaron who stands next to me, mouth full of cookie; "Maggie is ours and she's staying."

I smile, but can't quite mask my wince at the name Maggie.

"What's wrong?" Aaron asks, nearly spraying cookie crumbs.

"I don't want to be Maggie Leblanc anymore," I look at my parents; "I want you to name me."

TO-TO-TO

Three nights later I stand on a balcony of my family home, watching another New Orleans sunset. I'm in a flattering magenta dress with black heels; it's one of a dozen new dresses in my wardrobe. The room connected to my balcony is my bedroom, for right now it's cluttered with a mishmash of old and new décor just like the rest of the family compound. I've never hand this much stuff before, but as I've discovered the hard way, Aunt Bekah and Hope love to shop.

Back in the house, there's a flurry of last minute activity going on. In a few hours there's going to be a party, a "celebration of family" as my dad calls it. At least that's the cover story the other supernatural factions have been told. In reality it's Aaron and my's coming home bash.

My entire family is going to be here. There will be Mom, Dad, Aunt Rebekah, and of course Uncle Klaus. Along with Hope, Aaron, and Marcel, who I've learned is Klaus's adoptive son. Uncle Kol is bringing Davina, his not-wife, and their two young children. Oddly enough I am biologically related to my cousins, even though Kol was made a vampire over a thousand years ago but is now a mortal witch again. That is another long, complicated story Hope has promised to share with me soon. Even Cami will be here as a sort of adoptive aunt.

There will be other guests at the party. Friends and allies my family cannot snub in order to maintain peace between the factions, though Klaus was willing to for the "fun" it would bring. Members of Davina's coven are coming along with witches from other, friendly-ish covens. Most of Marcel's vampires will be here as well. There will even be other wolves besides the entire Crescent Moon pack, who are all coming in support of their alpha, my mom.

Leo and Khloe are coming as representatives of the New Moon pack. Besides Aiden and Josh, they will be the only non-family members who know the party's real purpose.

I have a feeling I'm as comfortable with this celebration as Leo and Khloe are. I've never been to a real party before, not even a birthday party, so I'm not sure what to expect. Though it has been made very clear to me I'm only allowed to drink alcohol when a responsible adult – not Klaus or Kol – is around to watch me.

I know Leo and Khloe are on edge because they're not used to mixing with the other factions and other packs. Still they're coming in support of Aaron and me. I figure hanging around them is a safe plan for the night.

Unlike me, Aaron has chosen to keep his name. He says he's been an Aaron too long to become an Oliver now. He has taken Oliver as his middle name though in honor of the wolf he was originally named after who meant a lot to his dad and Mom. His last name is still up for debate.

As for me, I finally have the name I've always wanted, one given to me by my parents.

"Eve," Mom calls to me; "Where did this come from?"

She picks a package off my bed. It's rather ordinary looking, smaller than a shoebox and wrapped in bland brown paper.

"I don't know," I pick my way through my room; "It wasn't there when I stepped outside a couple minutes ago."

"It's addressed to you," Mom sounds suspicious of the gift.

"I don't sense any magic on it," I reach for the package.

I have gotten better at sensing witch magic from a distance these last three days. Hope is a merciless teacher when she wants to be.

Mom lets me open the envelope first – I don't recognize the elegant handwriting that spells out my name, the great relief I feel is something I don't want to think about in this moment. Inside the envelope I find a short letter in the same, neat cursive. It reads:

 _Dearest Eve Mikaelson,_

 _Let me be the first to congratulate you on finding your family. I am certain you will all be very happy together._

 _In honor of your successful journey, I have a gift for you and one for your parents. The first is a journal. Use it to keep those perfect moments sharp in your memory as time wears on. The second is a book, to help your family understand what you are better and to guide you as you grow._

 _Best wishes from a friend of Blane's,_

 _Phoebe_

 _P.S. Don't worry about Brady's bicycle, I have returned it to Nicholas for you._

I rip through the brown paper as Mom skims the letter, then hands it to Dad. He and Aaron have snuck into my room while I was reading.

The journal is bound in good quality, brown leather. A dark maroon, Mikaelson "M" is stitched to its front. There's even a black, silk bookmark for me to use.

The book is made with the same craftsmanship, but with a red cover. It's titled: _What to Expect When Raising a Daimon_. I hand the book to Mom; she laughs at the title and hands it to Dad.

"How touching," Uncle Klaus has read the letter; "Your friend though is late, seeing as how you're practically grown already."

"The book is for when I'm reborn," I tell him as I dig through my desk drawer.

I'm looking for my pens; I know I put them in the drawer, somewhere. I want to see which ink will look better on the cream-colored pages of my journal. Then hands are pushing the drawer shut again, halting my search.

"Eve, please explain," Dad tilts my chin up.

"I'm immortal too, didn't Hope mention that?"

We haven't really discussed what a daimon is since I woke up. Besides testing my witch magic and a show-and-tell of the daimon abilities I've mastered, we've had more important catching up to do.

"You smell very mortal to me Little Sun," Klaus answers.

From the look my parents share, this is obviously a thought they've shared since my arrival.

"My body's mortal, but I'm not. One day this body will die and I'll be reborn as a baby. I'll look different, but I'll still be me. It's what happened to Blane, after you left me in the cemetery."

My family takes a moment to digest this. Mom looks almost like she can't believe it is true. Dad and Uncle Klaus are harder to read with centuries of experience at hiding their emotions, but I get the feeling they're relieved.

"Are you saying that I'm going to have to put up with a screaming, squalling baby version of you every few decades?" Klaus pretends to be disgusted with the thought; "Giving Elijah ample opportunity to mold you into a mini-him."

"Yes, brother, that is exactly what she is saying," Dad deadpans.

I laugh as Mom pulls me into a very happy hug.

There are no words that can express my joy.

I've finally found my home, forever.

* * *

 **THE END**

 **A/N** : There is a potential sequel if anyone is interested, but be forewarned I'm still in the process of writing it and won't be posting it until the entire work is complete and well-edited.


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